


Morpheus On Fire

by twoscarypandas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Sickfic, Threesome - M/M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoscarypandas/pseuds/twoscarypandas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The point was for Japan to check on the brat, because he'd been unnerved by that fever in his eyes. And then they were supposed to go home, and have everything back to normal." Japan and Turkey care for a dangerously sick Greece, whose fever dreams lead all three of them to see one another in a new light. Greece/Japan/Turkey</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things Unsaid

Chapter 1: Things Unsaid

It had been a quiet week for Turkey. Very quiet. He’d gotten plenty of work done. He was never interrupted. He never felt his neck prickle with the sensation of being stared at. He didn't have a single argument. It was...too quiet. He was going nearly mad with it. Where the HELL was the brat?

He figured Greece must've been planning something. Unnerved, and working up a temper to rival his days as an empire, he had barged his way into the brat's house and shouted for him. No response; certainly a trap! He went searching anyway, gun out. What he found was worse than anything he could have anticipated. An ambush, a good fight, a hurl of insults, all these he could handle. But this was not something he knew what to do with.

That’s how he has ended up on Japan's doorstep, trying very hard to knock politely and not appear panicked.

Japan has also had a... quiet week. No kittens scratching at his door, no handsome brunettes tapping his shoulder and speaking broken Japanese. He's gotten a lot of work done around the house. He's caught up on his latest manga. Began tinkering with his newer inventions. But for some reason he is tired. Probably because he didn't have any excuse to take a nap.

The knocking interrupts his afternoon tea, and he rises too suddenly, wondering in spite of himself if it is Greece. He goes to the door, peering through the peep-hole. Oh. Not Greece. But... Still. He opens the door, bowing his head in welcome. “Sadik-san. It has been too long.”

“Kiku!” Turkey opens his mouth, then scratches the back of his head awkwardly. He's not really sure how to say this without freaking Japan out or sounding like he cares too much. “Right. So. There's...we might have a problem.”

Japan frowns a little, not understanding. He hasn't seen Sadik in a very long time. What 'problem' could 'they' possibly have? He straightens, folding his hands together, and steps back to let him in. “What do you mean?”

Turkey’s eyebrow twitches. He's going to make him actually say it, isn't he? “Look. You seen that brat lately?”

“Hera-?” His eyes jolt up almost too quickly, he's so eager. Wait-- Why is Sadik _looking_ for Hera, anyway? No matter. If this has something to do with Greece, he'll gladly be of service. Somehow. “No, I-- I haven't seen him all week.” Just saying it makes him feel a bit depressed, and he looks down again. “Why?”

Turkey can't help feeling a little upset by how happy Japan looks at the mention of the Greece. Maybe he should just forget it, tell Japan he doesn't know either. But...ugh. There's some weird feeling at the thought. He thinks it might be guilt. And he does NOT feel guilty over the brat. Ever.

“I went to find him. I mean, he's always around, and it pisses me off when he goes hiding things! But, eh...he didn't even get up to fight. He was pale and shit, so I checked his temperature - because otherwise I would have attacked! That's the only reason. It's no fun when he doesn't fight back. Anyway, he's got a fever, and...and I don't really take care of people. Not that I care. But I thought you might.” He ends this little speech awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head.

“Hera's _sick_?” Japan gasps, paling and immediately grabbing his nearest robe. He grabs a basket as well, running to the kitchen to get his travel tea pot, some cups, and the ingredients to make a stew. “Oh, _Kami_!” He grumbles, grabbing his pot-warmer and heading out the door. “C'mon-- we have to make him better!”

“WE?!” Turkey follows anyway, grumbling the entire way. Stupid brat. Goes and gets sick and leaves HIM to clean up the mess. Greece is gonna owe him for this.

\---

They reach Hera's door in no time at all-- Japan honestly doesn't know how they got there this fast-- but the place is dark and no one is answering. Turkey doesn't seem to care about common courtesy. He opens the door and steps right in. Warily, Japan follows, not sure what to expect. He's never seen Greece sick before.

“Hey BRAT!” Turkey calls up the stairs, kicking the door shut behind him. “You better not be faking! I brought Japan now, and I don't want you wasting my friend's valuable time!” He leads Japan up to Greece's bedroom. It’s difficult to hide how many times he's been there - often drunk, yes, but not nearly often enough to make it an acceptable thing.

Greece pulls the covers over his head when he hears the door open, praying that Turkey will just go away. He really isn't up to dealing with him, whether he's trying to hurt him or help him. That bastard has never been good at the helping bit; he remembers that much from his childhood. But he brightens a little when he hears that Japan might be there. He peeks out from the blankets. “Kiku?” His voice sounds foreign, even to him.

Japan nearly bolts past Turkey at the sound of his name, trying to get to Greece. Oh, he sounds _awful_! He reaches the dark mass of blankets on the bed and pauses, his hand trembling as it reaches down to touch where his head should be. “Hera-kun?”

Greece is caught between wanting to burrow further under the blankets, hiding the horrible sight of his face from Japan, and sitting up to greet him. He settles for peeking out a little further. A cat wiggles out through the gap, sniffing at Kiku's hand. “Kiku! I...forgive me, I should get you something...”

“Don't you dare move, Hera-kun!” Kiku commands, scolding him with a finger, which only serves to distract the cat. Hera's very warm. He must get to work on the tea right away. “You stay right where you are! I am here to take care of you, and you will not move until you are all better! That is final!”

Greece’s attempts to protest are thwarted by a harsh cough that makes it feel like he's swallowed a particularly angry kitty. He leans forward, trying to get his breath back and _hating_ that he's been found like this.

Turkey observes them awkwardly. Shit. He should do something. He looks stupid just standing around while Japan's working and the brat is hacking up a lung. He walks forward, holding out a hand to pat his back. But then he realizes what he's doing and draws back. Stupid Greece. Why couldn't he at least have a broken arm or something? He can fix those.

Japan feels his head again, concerned. Hera is very, very warm. Stroking a hand through his hair slowly-- slower than he needs to-- he turns away and heads for the kitchen to make tea, muttering to himself about healing herbs.

Turkey and Greece stare at one another, equally uncomfortable. Their silence is broken by Greece's wheezing breath and Turkey's shuffling.

“Economy...?”

Greece coughs. Glares.

Turkey nods. “That sucks.”

Now that the tea is steeping in the kitchen, Japan begins to work on the soup. Miso, of course. Something light, that he'll be able to hold down... Hera needs to eat something, so that he can have some medicine. Kiku sighs over the pot. Oh, his poor Hera... If his economy has made him sick, it will take him a while to get better. “What are your symptoms, Hera-kun?!” He calls out to the patient, pulling out his medicine pack.

Greece feels like someone has stuffed wads of cotton into his ears, so he can't make out whatever Japan is saying. He's not even sure if it is directed at him. He shivers miserably, never sure if he's too hot or too cold. Then the smell of something hits him - it's not the soup, it's something else; spicy and much-too-sweet. He looks up at Turkey, who has inched a little closer; it smells like him. There have been times when that sweet perfume does wonderful things to his body. This is not one of them. He leans over the bed and retches, his brain mistaking the distance of the bucket he left there and hitting Turkey's shoes instead. It’s an honest mistake – well, a convenient one.

“Oh GOD!” Sadik cries out, stepping back to avoid any more bile. “You did that on purpose you brat!” He yells, largely because he's worried, but he can't let anyone know _that_. Great. Now he's going to have to shower. “Does that answer your question, Kiku?”

Japan whips around as he hears Greece retch, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and running over to wipe his face and mouth, cooing to him all the while in low, consoling Japanese. “Oh, my poor Hera-kun! I'm so sorry! I'll be here, I'll make you feel better, I will!” He wipes Greece’s face, running his fingers through his hair and cradling him close, sending a look to Turkey, who does not look like he wants to clean up Greece's puke. But somebody has to do it.

What a sentimental scene. Now Sadik’s going to vomit too. And the look Kiku’s sending him! He opens his mouth to say 'NOT ON HIS LIFE,' but his body is already moving to find a mop. Really, he knows this place too well for his own good.

Hera curls on his side, shaking and trying not to cling to Kiku. At least not while Sadik is around. As soon as he leaves the room, however, he can't help the way his hands shoot out to grip Kiku, holding on as though his life depends on it. He hasn't had anyone around but his own people, who cannot do anything for their sick nation but work to make their own lives better. Human doctors cannot do much for their kind; who can blame him for needing this comfort? Kiku's hands feel wonderfully cool against his burning skin. “It _hurts_ , Kiku,” he whimpers.

Japan almost moans in sympathy at the heat of his skin, the sound of his voice, the way he's clinging to him... Okay, maybe that groan wasn't entirely sympathetic. Still, he brushes his fingers through Greece’s hair, soothing him. “I will make you all better, Hera. I promise.”

He cups Greece’s cheek, knowing he must feel very cool to him, and curls his other arm around his waist. Japan is not worried about getting himself sick. His own economy is strong, stronger than almost any other country. He can help Hera get better. He'll have him just as he was in no time. And then they can take naps together.

Even though Greece cannot quite remember a time when he felt so miserable - and he knows there have been worse ages, he just can't bring himself to think of them - he believes Japan. He curls up against him, upsetting some of the cats who have been cuddling with him under and over the covers. The blankets are a mess from his thrashing, from shoving them away and pulling them back as he goes between temperatures. Right now the heavy ones are on the floor. He didn't notice just how warm it was in here until Japan touched him. “Your hands...is it cold out? You should wear gloves.”

“You're like a furnace.” Kiku coos, running his fingers through Hera’s hair and muttering softly. “It's alright, Hera-kun. We can make you better. You will have soup and tea, and my people will come visit your country and bring lots of money. You'll be all better in no time.” He sighs, curling around him tight and upsetting some of the kitties that have burrowed under the blankets. “Sadik-san! Make sure that soup's alright!” he calls toward the kitchen.

This is not what Turkey signed up for. They're turning him into a maid! That was not the point. The point was for Japan to check on the brat, because he’d been unnerved by that fever in his eyes. And then they were supposed to go home, and have everything back to normal.

He sighs, checking on the soup and giving it a stir before returning to the bedroom with a mop. He opens his mouth to give them a piece of his mind, but stops. Kiku is curled around the brat, who is whimpering and apparently in pain. He'd call the display weakness, but...it's kind of cute. God, he's going soft. He shakes his head, muttering to himself as he gets to work cleaning up the vomit.

Hera lets Kiku hold him for a moment, glad for the cool hands and the soothing voice. But then, Kiku's body is warm. Too warm, like he's being strangled by the heat. He frantically pushes Kiku away and tangles in the covers, coughing through the blind panic.

Japan winds up sprawled on the floor, looking up at Greece, kind of pouting. He'd been enjoying the feel of him, despite the heat in his skin. He pushes to his feet, trying not to feel saddened by the loss, before moving back toward the kitchen to get an ice pack. Perhaps some ice on his head will help?

Turkey finishes cleaning as Japan leaves. He watches him go, then glances back to the bed. He can't help it. He puts down his mop and peers down at Greece. Ugh. The sheets smell like sweat and sick. They're going to have to change those, aren't they? And he'll probably be the one washing them while Japan coos. Well, whatever. He's certainly not going to be the one cooing.

Hera is all curled in on himself, struggling vainly with the sheets and the cough taking away his breath. With a sigh Sadik grips his shoulder, forcing him to uncurl and sit up. “Hey, brat, don't do that. It's not going to help; sit like that.” He ducks a flailing fist, which doesn't have much power behind it anyway, and glares. “I'm going to go ahead a pretend that was an accident. Now hold still; it’s no use whining if you won't let me help.” He rubs Hera's back.

Greece  glares back, quite certain the bastard is trying to kill him, and struggles for all he's worth. Which, at the moment, isn't much. It's less of a fight and more of Turkey lifting him up and pulling his legs free of the sheets. The hand on his back isn't gentle, but somehow, his lungs ease.

Kiku shuffles back into the bedroom with some tea in his hands. He freezes mid-step when he finds Sadik rubbing Hera's back, pulling him from the sheets, revealing his nearly-naked body to the world and scaring every cat beneath the blankets to other corners of the room. Hera struggles, but soon relents under his hands, and Sadik soothes him with low grumbles as he works. Like it's second nature. Like he touches Hera like this every day. Oh... The thought makes Kiku blush heavily, and he sets the tea on the nightstand, waiting for Hera's coughing fit to cease.

Hera’s mind is having trouble understanding what's happening right now. This is...not their thing. They fight, they fuck, and sometimes they kind of like one another, but they don't _care_. Not like this. A glance at Sadik's face shows him that the other nation is just as confused as he is. He can see Kiku, too, standing quietly in the background. He's beginning to wonder if this is all in his head, and he's become delusional. They all remain still for a moment, a strange picture of mutual incomprehension.

It takes Turkey a minute longer to notice Japan, and when he does he shoots up and away from Greece. He'd rather clean up puke then try explaining what just happened to anyone, even himself. He leaves them alone again.


	2. Something Else

Japan watches his escape with wide-eyes, lips parted in shock and no little lust. If not jealousy. How unfair. They hate each other, and they still...

He lays a hand on Greece’s shoulder for a second, watching the other man disappear into the kitchen. Then he follows, eyes narrowed. The second he reaches the kitchen, he grabs Turkey and spins him around, demanding answers. “Sadik-san... What was that?”

The little guy's got a bit of strength in him, spinning him like that. Of course Turkey knew that, it's part of what attracted him to Japan in the first place. But that power was never really used against him before, and he finds it kind of sexy. What was he asking...? Oh. Well fuck. “Brat couldn't breathe.”

Oh, he's telling the truth in that respect. However, Japan’s eyes narrow. “You know what I mean.” He growls it softly, leaning into his face, somewhat like a parent scolding a child-- though really, since he's so much shorter, he looks like the child scolding the parent. His heart is hammering in his chest, the thought of them together doing strange things in his stomach. “What _was_ that?”

Turkey can't recall a time he has ever been quite so glad for his mask. It blocks some of his expression, because he can't keep quite everything he's feeling from reaching his face. How is he supposed to answer a question like that, when he doesn't understand it himself? He wishes he could skirt around this, but Japan's eyes hold him better than any chains. He shrugs, trying to appear unaffected. “Something else.” He knows it isn't a good answer, but he doesn't really know what else to say.

Japan’s eyes widen a little, and he steps back, letting him go. It's true, then. He swallows a little, turning back toward the stove and trying to stomp down the feelings of envy and lust. Hera and Sadik... They must care for each other as much as they hate each other. He doesn't know which one he's more jealous of. Both of them, certainly. He has always felt an odd chemistry with Sadik, the way he tries so hard to hide his roughness when Kiku's around, possessively guarding his feelings when all Kiku wants to do is throw off his clothes and see everything he's always keeping behind that mask. And Hera... He's the part of his world that makes no sense, but fits perfectly. Without him, there's no calm. But when Sadik’s around, Hera comes to life with a fire to match him. It is no surprise that they would channel that heat in other ways.

Contemplating it silently, Kiku turns to the soup and stirs it, letting the silence cushion his anger, his lust. Finally, he speaks, trying to sound normal. “Here.” He fills a small bowl. “Bring this to him.”

Shit. Sadik never meant for this to be a big deal. He's been telling himself for years that it isn't. But clearly it means something to Kiku. He opens his mouth to try explaining, or asking, or _something_ , but a bowl is shoved into his hands. Apparently Kiku doesn't want to talk about it; that's fine with him. He and Hera _never_ talk about it. He takes the bowl but gestures to the stinking mop. “I should, uh...yeah. I'll get that in a minute.”

Japan grabs the mop and bucket, taking it to the bathroom where he can complete the ugly job in peace and not look at them for a while. He sets to work, dumping the disgusting water into the bathtub and refilling the bucket anew. Why does this always happen to him? Ever since he left Yao, everyone he's wanted to be with has been with someone else. Italy and Germany, Netherlands and Canada, America and... Well. The last person to touch him was Francis, and that man doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word fidelity.

Hera looks up when he hears the heavy footsteps, wondering why it is not Kiku who has returned. Sadik is making an... interesting face. He can't quite read it with the mask, but something has definitely happened. He raises an eyebrow. “What did you do to Kiku?” he croaks.

Turkey sets the soup on the table beside the bed and starts to sit, then remembers their earlier scene and thinks better of it. “Nothing. He, uh...asked. About us.” He puts the spoon in Hera's shaking hand and closes Hera’s fingers around it before stepping back, awkwardly shifting.

“Oh.” His reaction would be so much more, if only Hera could get up the energy to reflect the turmoil in his head. He can tell that it was not as simple a thing as they've been trying to make it be. He always wondered if he should tell Kiku about that, but he figured it wasn't important. He likes Japan so much, but he was so... unlike them, when it came to sex.

In the end he simply nods and leans forward. He didn't realize he was hungry until he smelled the soup. His stomach isn't twisting yet, either; that's a good sign. He tries to get some from the bowl, but his fingers can't hold onto the spoon properly. It clatters to the table, leaving a small puddle of soup. He groans and rolls onto his side.

“Brat. Sulking won't help.” It isn't said unkindly, though. Before Turkey quite knows what he's doing, he's propping up pillows and sitting Greece up against them. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and wraps Greece's hand around the spoon again. The soup makes it a little further, but this time falls on the bed. With a sigh he picks up the spoon himself, fills it, and brings it to Hera's mouth. The brat glares at him, refusing to open. “C'mon. Don't be stupid.  I didn't poison it or anything.”

Greece in not about to let _Turkey_ , of all nations, spoon-feed him. It is more than his pride can take. He keeps his lips locked and his eyes hard. Turkey tries pushing it against his lips, and he finally flings the spoon away, curling on his side once more to face the wall. “No.”

Frustrated beyond his breaking point, and without a healthy Greece to take it out on, Turkey narrowly resists the urge to overturn the little table entirely. “FINE! Starve, for all I care. Never get better. I'll leave you to it, I don't know why I ever bother coming here.” He stomps out of the room.

By the time Kiku finishes cleaning the mop, he has decided that he simply needs to block it all away. Stop thinking about it, or them, or the two of them together. Of course, the moment he comes out of the bathroom and sees Sadik stomping away, Hera looking glumly down at his soup, it's butterflies all over again. He wanders out toward Hera slowly, using the edge of his robe to wipe away the soup on the table and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He does not look at Hera as he takes the bowl away. “You really do need to eat, Hera-kun.”

Greece refuses to look either, because if he doesn't look, then he won't see whatever face Japan is making for those words to sound so sad. He is glad he can go back to hating Turkey in peace for the moment; it gives him something else to concentrate on. “I know. But I can't.”

Japan sighs, holding the bowl between his fingers and tipping it to Greece's lips, trying to keep his eyes there, and not on him. “Drink, please.”

Hera supposes this is acceptable. Kiku, at least, will not bring it up against him publically. So he sits enough not to choke and allows Kiku to help him drink it. It's wonderful on his sore throat, soothing the ache. It's difficult not to drink it all at once, when his empty belly is craving any amount of it. But he'd really rather not bring it all back up again. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, between sips.

Japan nods, but does not reply. He pulls the bowl away for a moment to wipe up the bit that spilled on the sheets earlier. He's fairly surprised that he spilled none himself. His hands are steadier than anything else in him now. After he finishes cleaning it away, he raises the bowl again, looking toward the kitchen where Sadik stomped away.

Hera doesn’t mean to look. He is perfectly content to concentrate on the wavering wall behind Kiku's head, or the bowl of soup - anything but his face. He sees it anyway, and that means he cannot leave it be. He doesn't like to see Kiku looking like that. “Are you angry with us?”

Japan stiffens, eyes opening a little wider at the question. “Hmm?” He looks at him with his head cocked to the side, playing dumb, even as his heart skips a beat. “What do you mean? Why would I be?” He asks genuinely, because he truly is confused. What right does he have to be angry?

Maybe it's the fever, but Greece finds himself talking about that thing that he has never before named. “Sadi--I mean that bastard. He said he told you...about us. That we...” Why is this so hard to say? It's not like it's a problem, or a big deal. Really. It isn't. It isn't supposed to be. “That we have sex. You seem unhappy.”

Kiku can't breathe, he can't move, his throat appears to be tied in a knot. There it is. The moment it's said, any hope of perhaps misunderstanding all of this is lost. He sets the bowl down to keep from spilling it and folds his hands in his lap, tension slowly unwinding into the acceptance long built into his bones.

“I'm not angry,” he says it softly, because he's not, and that's as honest as he feels he can be right now. Still, he smiles at Hera. “I will get you more soup.” He slides from the edge of the bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Ki-” Greece tries to call out, to reach after him, but ends up slumped over in a fresh fit of coughing. Why did this have to happen when his defenses are at their lowest? Perhaps it has happened _because_ they are. This isn't a thing he's prepared to deal with. Miserably, he reaches for a cat to cuddle. Uncomplicated affection, uncomplicated hatred. Cats have very little in-between to deal with.

Turkey has been drinking whiskey in the kitchen. He looks up when Japan enters, and with a wry grin offers him a shot. “He's a brat. I've said it for years. Drink - makes it easier.”

Japan nearly throws the bowl to the counter. “He is _not_ a brat. He is _sick_.” He ignores the offered drink, stirring the pot of soup and seeking out more tofu, more onion. Greece needs more in his stomach than dashi. Breathing out slowly, he closes his eyes and tries to simmer down. He'll just stay for a little while longer and let the lovebirds get back to shouting at each other when he makes his exit.

Sadik actually flinches at the venom in Kiku's voice. Ah, damn. He is _terrible_ at dealing with this sort of thing. He should've left Kiku to it, and then they wouldn't be dealing with this bizarre tension. “Look, Kiku, I never thought it would bother you. We didn't, ah...it's not like we're friends or anything, it's not like we lied.” He throws back another shot.

Japan drops the ladle into the pot, almost wishing he could throw it somewhere, make it clatter. But he's never overemotional when he's angry. And he's not angry. Not really. He still turns on Sadik, fists falling to his hips. “It does _not_ bother me,” he snips, sounding very bothered. “You and Hera are none of my business, so it can't bother me. What _does_ bother me is _you._ You continuing your little gripes and putting him down when he's sick—” _'And fucking him while he's well enough to kick your ass'_ , he wants to say, but doesn't, just lets it hang there, unsaid. “Just get over yourself, for once, Sadik. If you hated him so much, I would not be here.” He turns away then, bringing the soup back out to the room.

Turkey’s mouth hangs open in complete shock. NO ONE talks to him like that. No one except for...he laughs. Well. That certainly explains a lot. Perhaps Japan is more like Greece than he would ever like to admit, at least on this level. And he's so defensive of the brat! Doesn't he see it's their way of coping? They make one another stronger, and serve as an outlet for...everything. Now they have Japan, too.

He smiles to himself, and starts after them. He moves much faster when he hears Japan calling Greece’s name, a distinct note of panic in his voice. The soup is forgotten on the table, and Japan is kneeling on the floor beside the bed, trying to get a response from the man slumped over the side. Turkey doesn't bother to hide his concern; he runs to help Japan heft him fully back into the bed. “Think he fainted?”

“Hera-!” Kiku gasps, moving his arms onto the bed and feeling his forehead. “He's burning up. We need cold water and a cloth - can you get some? Please?” He looks to Sadik, then back to Hera, who looks ashen but is sweating like he's just jogged four miles. “Please, Sadik! And the medicine on the counter!” He pats Hera's cheek, trying to wake him enough to take something. “Hera, please!”

Sadik nods. “We'll find a way to get through to him.”

 


	3. Doctor-Patient Privilege

Greece is floating in space. Whether for minutes, hours, or days he cannot tell, but it is a place beyond feeling, and he likes it. Still there is something calling him back, familiar voices telling him to open his eyes. He blinks, squinting against the light. Once his vision clears, he blinks again. He cannot _possibly_ be seeing what he thinks he is.

“Ah, our patient is awake. Best check his vitals, nurse,” says Turkey. He’s got a long white coat over a bare chest and sinfully tight pants. On the coat is a badge that says “Doctor.”

Japan, on the other hand, is currently wearing a tight, short-skirted "nurse" uniform with a pair of bright red thigh-high stockings beneath it. He pulls a stethoscope from somewhere and leans over, dragging the bell from the crook of Greece’s neck and all the way down his chest. “His pulse is racing, Sadik-Sensei.”

Once again, Greece blinks. Rubs his eyes. They're still there; Kiku in the shortest nurse uniform he's ever seen, and Sadik in the doctor's coat. Either he's finally lost it, or they have. “What...what're you...” Doing? Wearing? He's not sure which question is more pressing.

Japan pushes him back on the bed and leans over him. “ _Please_ Patient Hera-kun, don't overexert yourself. You must _rest_.” He turns his back to Hera and bends over, ass high in the air to reveal a bright red g-string beneath that skirt. He stays like that for a very long time, before coming back up with a large glass thermometer that looks more like a dildo. “We need to check his temperature, Sadik-Sensei. He's _very_ hot.”

Greece stares blatantly at Japan's ass, because really, bending over like that is practically an invitation. It's so cute, all round and tight, just the kind of thing he'd like to take in his hands. But his body feels incredibly heavy, like each move will require more effort than it's worth. That doesn't stop him from attempting to scramble back when he sees the thermometer. “I, I uh, I think I appreciate what you're trying to do, but, ah, that is to say...”

Turkey presses a big hand against Greece’s chest, effectively keeping him in place. “Just relax. Let us...take care of you. You'll like it. You've wanted us both for so long, haven't you?”

“You have...” Kiku smiles coyly. He crawls onto the bed and straddles the patient’s body to hold him down, his skirt riding up high. Batting his eyelashes, Kiku slides his hands up Hera’s body, practically rubbing up against him like a cat. “Now open wide, Hera-kun, and let's see how hot you are.” He smirks and presses the head of the "thermometer" against his lips.

Their voices caress Hera’s ears and sink into his brain. _This_ is how they've decided to make him feel better? Still...he can feel his cock filling, and Sadik isn't lying. How the bastard knew he wanted both of them is beyond him, but he'll worry about it later, when he doesn't have Kiku crawling over him and pushing a massive phallic thermometer into his mouth. Hera just hopes he won't choke on it because of his cough.

Japan presses the thermometer slowly inside, his body dragging up against Greece’s hardening cock the further it goes. “That's right, Patient Hera-kun. Doctor, he's _very_ responsive.” He clenches his thighs around Greece. “I think we may be able to treat him.”

Sadik runs a hand through Hera's sweaty hair, caressing his forehead and ears. But then his grip tightens, forcing Hera to take more of the thermometer. “Make sure you suck that in deep, so we can get a good reading.” His other hand runs up the back of Kiku's thigh, pausing just under the skirt’s rim. “Mm, nurse, he's still very warm. You shall have to perform the fellatio procedure, to drag the fever away from his head.”

Kiku bites down on his lower lip, blushing sweetly at the way Sadik's hand peeks up his skirt. “Right away, Doctor.” He arches his ass into the air, sliding the rest of his body all the way down Hera's. His hands push Hera's thighs apart and pull the waist of his sweats down. He gasps softly, his mouth dropping open in an expression of classic porno!surprise. “Oh, Sadik-Sensei, he's so _big_! I don't know if I'm _equipped_ for fellatio procedure on one of this size.”

Turkey smacks Japan's raised ass. “I believe I've given you all the appropriate training.” He rubs his own erection through his pants, smirking. “Or do you need a refresher course?”

“Mmph!” Japan bites down hard on his lower lip, arching into the slap as though it's more blissful than painful. “N-No, Doctor. I will begin treatment.” Licking his lips slowly, Japan peers up at Greece, taking the base of his cock in one small hand and opening his lips around the tip. He groans softly as he takes it into his mouth, sucking each inch.

_Oh gods of his mother._ The very thought of Kiku on his knees, sucking off Sadik, sends hot flashes of anger and desire through Hera. He's not sure if it's that, the feel of Kiku sliding against him, or the burst of cool air over his cock that finally makes him gasp, but he does, and the thermometer falls from his lips. He groans low, trying to arch into the sweet little mouth. “K-Kiku!”

Turkey picks up the thermometer and eyes it critically. He turns a hard gaze on Greece. “It seems we cannot get an accurate measure of your temperature this way. If you cannot keep it in your mouth, we will try again elsewhere.” He produces a vial of what is clearly lube from one of his pockets and spreads Hera's legs wider. “Nurse! Give me room to work!”

Groaning softly, Japan pulls off of that cock with a soft pop. “Of course, Sadik-Sensei.” He sighs breathlessly, rising and moving around Greece's body before climbing aboard again. This time his ass is in Greece’s face, bright-white stilettos flanking his head. He lets his skirt roll up, his back arching as he leans down to take Greece’s cock in his mouth again, swaying his hips and showing off his g-string.

Hera shivers and moans, because he knows what's coming next. “Sadik, I...I'm not sure I can...” He's feeling better, sort of - more like he's floating on a sexual haze _above_ the sickness, but at the same time he's still so heavy, so tired.

Sadik runs slicked fingers up and down Hera’s cleft, pausing to tease the rim of his hole. “Trust me. I'm the doctor.” He pushes his finger inside.

Hera has never once in his life trusted Sadik, and will certainly not start now. That doesn't stop him the arching into Kiku's mouth as the finger penetrates him. Heat is certainly being drawn to his cock, but it's in his head, too. He's hot all over, so hot, and he wants more. He tries to raise his head a little, licking up Kiku's leg. The stockings are rough against his tongue. “Raise your skirt a little more, please Kiku! I want...to see...”

Japan sucks harder, trying to get Greece to forget his worries, forget his ailment. That's what this treatment is for! Pulling off, he laves that heavy cock with spit, his tongue sliding up and down, refusing to stop pleasuring him for even the moment it takes to speak.

“Doctor, he's responding well to the treatment. Should I offer visual stimulation?” he asks, low and hot as his hands reach down to slowly roll up the hem of his skirt.

Turkey slides a second finger in with the first, licking his lips at the sight of Greece all spread out with Japan over top of him. The front of Kiku's hair is falling into his face, and one hand is reaching behind him to draw up the skirt. He groans. “Yes. You should continue to palpitate the extremities as well, to keep the blood flowing.”

Hera’s tongue climbs higher, slicking over the top those stockings, inching toward his thigh.

“Mm-! Doctor, he's overexerting himself-!” Groaning the words out like he needs it more than he's protesting, he rocks back against Greece’s tongue. Then he looks back over his shoulder, pleading, “Please, Patient Hera-kun! Stop! You must let us take care of you!” He hikes the skirt up high, exposing his entire ass before slowly drawing his fingers over the waistband of his g-string.

The sights and words are at odds, tangling in Hera’s brain. He pauses, brow furrowed, completely aroused and completely lost at the same time. There's Kiku's hand on his cock, and Sadik's fingers inside him, and Kiku's ass in his face, just about to pull off those sexy red panties...God. He wants to touch him so badly, but Japan's body is pinning his arms. He sticks his tongue out again, lapping over the fingers at the waistband. “Want to-AH!”

Sadik curls the two fingers and rubs them up against Hera's sweet spot, making him jolt off the bed. He smirks, rubbing once more before he adds a third finger. “Let him have a taste of your medicine, nurse.”

“Mm-!” Japan moans softly, biting down on his lower lip again as he looks over his shoulder at the hungry-eyed patient. “ _Yes_ , Doctor.” He groans, sliding those panties down one-handed, getting them to his thighs and rocking his ass side to side, showing it off. “Should I give him an oral injection, or let him drink from the other source? I still have your... booster shot from this morning...”

Hera's half out of his mind with pleasure, rocking hard onto Sadik's fingers. The man _does_ know where to touch, when he's in the right mood. Then there's Kiku, showing off his amazing ass, already filled with cum... Oh, they should have started doing this together years ago. He doesn't wait for the 'doctor's' response. He snakes his tongue out and presses it into Kiku's hole.

“ _Ah-!_ ” Japan cries out, rocking back and letting his head fall forward at the feeling, the pleasure of that tongue. It’s so good, he almost forgets his job. His eyes flutter open, and he looks down at the cock in his hand. He pumps it once before sinking down on it again, his lips sucking _hard_ , almost brutally so, as Hera's tongue reaches for a taste of Sadik's cum.

Turkey’s grin widens at the sight of the two pleasuring one another, and he starts grinding his cock against the bed. He twists his fingers one more time, making sure Hera is ready, before pulling them out and picking of the thermometer. He pushes the tip of it against Hera's entrance, slowly pressing it inside. “Time to take your temperature.”

Hera moans against Kiku's ass, drawing back with a string of cum still attached to his lips. The thermometer stretches him open, sending hot sparks up his spine. “Oh, Sadik! It's almost as big as your thermometer! Feels so good...” His head falls forward against Kiku's ass, so soft it could serve as a pillow. He licks it slowly, trembling and moaning as Kiku pumps him and Turkey presses the dildo deep inside.

XXX

Meanwhile, in the real world, Japan and Turkey continue to watch over their sick, sleeping friend. They share a look.

“...Did he just say ’it's almost as big as your thermometer?’” asks Japan.

Turkey returns to staring at the shaking form of Greece, who is groaning and muttering in his sleep. “I believe he did. Right after something about your skirt.”

“That's... not as strange.” Japan blushes. He steps forward to press the back of his hand against Greece’s forehead. It’s still burning.

XXX

Back in Hera’s dream, Kiku is moaning, his ass gyrating back on that probing tongue as his head falls forward to groan the words around the head of Hera’s cock. “Ah--ah-- Yes! You must drink it all, Hera-kun! It will make you better-- please!” He begs, taking the cock down his throat and sucking hard, making desperate little sounds as he does. “Mmph! Mmm- Nngh--!” He pulls off fast as that tongue slides in deeper. “Hera-!”

Once the thermometer is seated about halfway inside, Sadik thrusts it forward _hard_ , pushing until it is all the way in. He and Kiku have Hera writhing on the bed, heat spilling off all of them. He himself is rock hard, pressing against his pants, and dying to get his own 'thermometer' inside of Hera.

“Mmp!” Greece yelps, sending vibrations into Japan. At this point, he honestly believes that drinking Turkey's cum from Japan's ass _will_ make him better. Nothing else has worked, why not? And if it doesn't, he's having a damn good time trying. He presses his face against that ass, and rocks his hips between Japan’s mouth and the toy.

“Ah--AhhHERA!” Kiku cries out, rolling his hips back, nearly riding his tongue. He pulls off of Hera’s cock to look to Sadik, who is watching them both with lust plain as day. “Doctor-- He- He needs more! He needs more of your medicine, stat!” he begs, one hand reaching down to grab Sadik's chin and drag him up into a hard, half-crazed kiss that is both open-mouthed and dripping with cum, purely for Hera's benefit.

Turkey kisses back just as hard, tangling their tongues so Greece can see. “Excellent assessment, nurse,” he groans, practically tearing the thermometer from Greece. He pulls open his pants, sighing as his erection is finally released. He grabs Japan by the hair and pulls his mouth down onto it. “Sterilize me.”

Kiku takes it into his mouth, covering it with spit liberally as Sadik pulls at his hair and slaps his ass, making him jolt forward to take more. Hera must be half fuming. He pulls off, rocking back a little harder on that tongue. “You're ready, Doctor.” He gasps the words, kissing up Sadik’s stomach, chest, and throat until he's finally kissing him again, reaching between them to tug Sadik’s cock toward Hera's hole.

Watching them kiss like that makes Greece angry, so incredibly jealous even though he knows they're doing it just for him. At the same time it makes him harden, his stomach coiling tight - and he is so grateful that for the first time in days his stomach is feeling something other than nausea. He pulls his tongue away to bite down on Kiku's ass, right over the place Sadik smacked.

When Sadik finally presses up against him, his eyes widen. He's never been that big before, has he? Hera has no more time to wonder before he's practically impaled on it, crying out and jerking against the bed.

“Hera-!” Japan gasps as he's bitten, falling forward in time to see Turkey’s cock push inside. Oh-- Oh, that's a _gorgeous_ view. He takes Hera's cock in hand again, sucking the head into his mouth and swallowing him down, bobbing his head up again and starting a steady rhythm, tightening his lips at odd intervals, drawing need to the surface.

None of them are going to last for long, so Turkey starts up a brutal rhythm, pounding into Greece so hard that Japan has a hard time staying balanced. “Ng~ Your vital regions...seem to be _tight_ \- I mean receiving proper treatment! Oh fuck, I'll give you a healing you won't soon forget!”

The brutal fucking has Hera's cock jamming itself down Kiku’s throat. He chokes, gagging on it, at first unprepared. But then he gets used to the rhythm, picking up the pace and sucking him _hard_ , his whole body shuddering with need for-- _FUCK_!

Hera thrusts his tongue back along Kiku's ass, dragging it over his scrotum before pushing it inside again. He's so close, he wants to make sure they both come too. He does his best to flick against Kiku's prostate, and that's just when Sadik slams into _his_. His head falls back with a wild cry, and he comes into Kiku's mouth, praying that he is emptying his body of sickness as well as semen. “FUCK.”

When Hera's tongue strokes his prostate, Kiku nearly _screams_ around that cock, so close that he can't think of anything else. Which is fine, because Hera's coming anyway, exploding down his throat. He swallows him down, milking him softly and finally pulling off after a moment to gasp for air. Fuck-- he's _so close_!

Turkey rams himself inside the clenching hole a few more times before he follows Greece over the edge. “Take your medicine, brat!” he grunts, though the demand is rather affected by the breathless moan at the end. Kiku is shaking, and Hera is lost, so he leans forward to tug Kiku off as he finishes rocking into Hera.

“Oh-- Oh _Please_!” Kiku cries out, rocking into that touch for three tugs until he's gone, coming all over Sadik's hand and crying out like he's never come before. “ _Yes_!”

Greece fades in and out, utterly blissed out. Or high with fever. Probably both. It's strange, because he swears he can see Japan and Turkey standing over him, a little hand holding onto his. But they're in and around him, aren't they? And his hands are flat on the bed...

XXX

Kiku stares openmouthed at Hera's now-still form, one hand still clasping his. A minute ago, Hera was moaning and writhing around on the bed like he was... And then he... Oh. Kiku blushes nearly strawberry and drops his hand to the bed. “Ah... Sadik, I... Think perhaps he needs more ice. I will get him some.”

“...Well then. At least it's a good dream.” Turkey chuckles. Greece naps often enough that he's seen this happen before. He tried embarrassing him about it, but Greece doesn’t really care. Not that Turkey wants to clean up cum...better than puke, but still. He sighs. “You owe me _so much_ for this, brat.”

He follows Japan to the kitchen to get a cloth. “Maybe it'll wake him enough for you to give him something. He's still burning.”

Japan fills a pack with ice, bringing it back to bed and peering down at the now... very serene Hera. “He does need something to break his fever...” he sighs, crouching down and trying not to blush any harder. He lays the pack on Hera’s head, his hand dragging through the sweaty hair.

Turkey pulls the sheet completely off the bed and removes Greece's boxers with a practiced ease. He hopes Japan doesn't take note of that, but he doubts he'll get that lucky. For Kiku's sake he doesn't linger, cleaning Hera with the indifference of a professional nurse. He tries giving Kiku an excuse to turn away, since the stoic nation is not usually one for nudity. “He's got spare sheets in the closet. We should change everything - he's been sweating through them anyway.” Shit. He's starting to sound like a professional caretaker or something. Hastily, Sadik adds, “Had to keep things clean in battlefield hospitals. Lots of infection-based fever there, saw it all the time...so...This is no different.”

Japan swallows at the sight of the...mess. And the body that caused it. And the hand wiping it clean. And... Oh, Kami, he can't look anymore. He's so hot, so angry, so sad-- “I'll just get those,” he breathes, moving swiftly toward the closet and taking his time when he gets there. It's a walk-in, thankfully. He slips inside, grabbing some sheets from the shelf and going through the rest to find ones that match. That's his excuse, anyway.

Meanwhile, Turkey rinses out the cloth and tries wiping down Greece's chest, hoping the cool water will reach him. “Hey. Wake up for a minute. C'mon, brat, you've gone and upset Kiku, and we can't have that. And stop expelling bodily fluids! Any more of this and I'm going to be spilling it for you...blood, that is. Ah, shit.” He mutters the last part, aware he's stumbling over his own tongue.

The world just barely comes into focus, still hazy around the edges. Are his eyes closed? Why are they closed? Greece could've sworn he was awake. But he does recognize the bastard threatening him. His fingers twitch. “N'if I spiyers fist...” Which, in his head, sounds more like "Not if I spill yours first."

Japan's about to step out of the closet when he sees Turkey muttering to Greece, caressing him with that wet cloth. He can't help biting his lip, watching, because it's actually incredibly hot. Not that he'd ever thought it would be otherwise, it's just... “Sadik-kun?”

“Hang on - I think he's coming to.” Sadik leans over Hera's face, gripping his shoulder and shaking him a little. “Brat? Yo, Heracles!”

Hera blinks and frowns at the shaking, trying to push Sadik off of him. “Gt'off. M'dizzy.” Indeed, he immediately wishes to close his eyes again as the room starts spinning. Sadik stops shaking him, but keeps a rough grip on his shoulder; clearly he will not be allowed to go back to sleep. He sighs, his brain very slowly piecing things together. Wasn't...wasn't Kiku there a moment ago? “'ere's Japan? Wha's you do t'im?”

“Hera.” Kiku moves toward the bed, holding the sheets in his arms and hovering in the corner of his vision, keeping his gaze to the floor. As much as he _wants_ to look at naked Hera... He really can't. He doesn't have the courage. “I'm, ah... We're just... changing your sheets.”

Hera rolls his head to the side, squinting at Kiku. The nurse outfit is gone, replaced by a simple robe. “You changed.”

Kiku blinks down at himself, then up at Hera. “I...” He shakes his head. “You need to take some medicine. Your fever is very high.”

Greece frowns. “I did...you gave it to me...” He shifts, trying to sit up a little so he can reach for Japan. He pauses, and looks at Turkey instead. “No, it was you. Or...” He clutches his head, the heavy ache returning. His whole body hurts. “I want to sleep.”

Turkey turns to Japan, an eyebrow raised. They share a brief, very confused look. “Right then. First medicine, then sheets.”

Japan moves toward him, dropping the sheets and picking up the little plastic cup of liquid on the table. It’s medicine, extra-economic-strength. He presses it to Greece’s lips. “Drink.”

Greece accepts the cup. It tastes so much worse than cum, he blanches and almost spits it out. But he forces himself into drinking it all, until his stomach is rolling again. He shuts his eyes and presses his mouth closed, begging it to stay down.

Japan grabs a garbage can, placing it within retching distance just in case, and slowly lowers Greece back to the bed. He presses another ice pack to his head. “Now rest.”

“We should...change the...oh, forget it.”  Turkey shakes his head. He's not about to get vomit on him again, and Greece doesn't look like he's leaving that bed on his own. He takes a clean top sheet and places it over him. They can change the rest when he looks a little less green.

 


	4. Heat

 

Greece feels nothing but the sweat on his body, and even that is vague as he looks around and finds himself... somewhere else. Somewhere hot, and damp. Somewhere with not a lot of air. There is ringing in his ears, and when he looks up he sees a gigantic red fire bell clanging in mid-air.

He shuts his eyes against the ringing and rubs at his temples. To his surprise, the noise fades, and when he opens his eyes he can see something through a haze of smoke. A pole, leading up to a hole in the ceiling. What on earth...?

To make matters worse – or better, really - Japan comes sliding down the pole. He spins around it like he was born with thighs of steel, wearing only a black and yellow fireman's jacket, a helmet, and a black, glittery man-thong, which is more than visible from the angle. “Better hurry, Chief. There's a four-alarm fire down here,” he calls up the pole.

Turkey slides down after Japan, ending with a flourish and a kick that displays he, too, has nothing but the helmet, jacket, and thong. He tips the hat and winks in Greece's direction. “Be on your guard; this one's dangerous. You don't want to be-” He slides against the pool, all the way down to a crouch and back up. “-burned.”

Greece stares. This...this is...different. He must admit, he never thought of this as a fetish that could do much for him before. But maybe that's because he'd been picturing it all wrong. As in, without Japan and Turkey. Well. He never knew they were so...good with a pole? Oh God. Where is this going?

Kiku reaches back above his head, sliding his ass up and down the pole as he grips it. He eyes Hera through his lashes, letting the bottom of his jacket part to show off his thighs and thong. “You're right, Chief-San. It's so _hot_ , I'm _burning_.”

Sadik goes behind the pole to run his hands up from Kiku's thighs to his belly, parting the coat. “Mmm, _steaming_.” His fingers catch on the string of the thong and he snaps it against Kiku's hip.

Hera thinks he must be drooling by now. Which is not good, because it really is hot, and he doesn't want to waste any more fluid. He realizes he's sweating through his shirt and quickly pulls it over his head. There appears to be nothing here but the chair he sits in, and the stage that the other pair is using. All the rest is smoke and steam.

Kiku makes a light sound, almost a moan, as the elastic snaps against his skin. He grinds his body up against Sadik's, letting him do as he pleases while batting his eyes at Hera, daring him to join them. “We need to put this fire out. Do you have something we can use, Sadik-San? To _extinguish_ it?”

Sadik slides his hand inside the thong, slowly pumping Kiku's cock. “I think we'll need a hose.” He licks a path up Kiku's neck, grinding against his ass.

Greece groans, shifting uncomfortable in his pants. He wants to touch them, both of them, but he feels like he can't get up from this chair or he'll ruin everything. “So hot...sexy...” He licks his lips.

Japan moves, creating an image just for Greece. He turns his face to the pole and arches downward, thrusting his ass straight out as he grips it and letting his coat ride up. He grinds _hard_ against the bulge in Turkey’s thong, and it's like they're fucking already. “Mm, but yours is _longer_.” He extends the word on a gasp, his body shuddering a little as Turkey strokes his cock just right.

Turkey gasps and pushes back, a slow, circular motion of his hips that is driving all three of them crazy. He leans over Japan, drawing up the back end of his coat. “You make it that way.” He backs off suddenly, spinning around to the other side of the pole. “Oh, but our Hera is such a lovely burn. I think we can make him hotter. Why don't you go help him with those clothes? Poor brat is sick...I think we ought to give him a show.”

Kiku licks his lips, smirking in mirth as he lets go of the pole and straightens, slinking toward the edge of the stage and sliding off, dropping between Hera’s knees. “Why are you wearing so many clothes, Hera-kun?” he asks slowly, dragging his palms up the insides of his thighs.

Hera’s breath hitches - he hadn't realized until now how labored his breathing sounded. It must be from this display. He looks down at Kiku, taking off the helmet so he can run his hands through the black silk of his hair. It's just as soft as he knew it would be. “I don't know. Take them off.” He's just settling in for what he's pretty sure is going to be the greatest blow job and/or lap dance he's ever received, when the music begins. Drums, and bells.

With the first beats of the drums Turkey takes off the coat, and reveals that the waist of his thong is part of a scarf, shinning with bits of gold. His entire torso is covered in a shimmering glitter that catches the light, showing off each and every move he makes. As the bells start, he lifts and drops his hips, one after the other to the rhythm.

Japan hums a little, his hands sliding up to Greece's zipper and pulling it down, slowly helping him out of his pants and viewing that heavy, half-hard cock. “Kami- _Sama_ , you must be burning!” He gasps, leaning in and licking it from root to tip.

Oh, gods, Hera’s not sure where to look: the pretty dark head with its pink tongue darting between his legs, or the shimmering body that's dancing on the stage. Fuck. The fact that Sadik could move his hips like - oh, YES, like _THAT_ \- - was half the reason they started having sex. It was truly an opportunity not to be lost. Turkey rarely dances publically, and has done it only once _for_ him. He's certainly never danced like _this_ , all made-up and...FUCK what is Kiku _doing_ to him? He can't even explain the way that tongue wraps around his cock. He only knows that he never wants it to stop.

Japan whines slightly as his tongue laps up a taste of his bliss, and it soothes the heat in him, just slightly. He needs more. He grips Hera’s thighs, spreading them apart and taking his cock into his fist. “Please-! I need more!” He gasps around the head, sucking hard, trying to bring more to the surface.

Turkey moves with the music, a part of it. His muscles roll or jerk, sending the coins at his hips jingling and his body sparkling. He shifts his ribs in a circle, forward and back, side to side, then the hips again, moving his arms out and back in. He turns and shakes his ass.

“Ngh!” Greece is losing track of any coherent thought as Japan licks him down, the suction around his cock a sort of exquisite torture. He tugs on the hair, and delights in the way Kiku purrs. “So good!” He swears his eyes are closed in pleasure, but he still sees Turkey anyway, shaking that lovely ass and making everything shimmer. “Sadik, you need to belly dance in glitter more often...”

XXX

The real-worldTurkey goes very pale, then very red. He coughs and tries hard to glare at Japan without looking ridiculous. “Were such a thing true, and I'm not saying it is, you would take it to your grave.”

Japan tries very, very hard not to smirk, but fails miserably, snickering behind his hand. “Of course. If such a thing were true. Though, if it was, I'm sad I missed it.”

Turkey raises his brows. “You would want to see...never mind.” He shakes his head and goes back to scowling at the brat. They're waiting to see if the medicine will kick in; so far, nothing has changed.

The slight dose of humor makes Japan feel a little better about their rather hopeless situation, his heart cracking a bit at the sight of Greece looking like that... in his dreams... for the man beside him. He's blushing like mad at the thought. “I'll get more water. In case.” He turns around, slipping away, trying not to blush.

“He says your name, you know.” Sadik doesn't look away from Hera's face; can't, because that would mean seeing something new in Kiku's. “When he talks in his sleep. He says 'neko-Kiku'. That's like, naked, right?”

Kiku stops in his tracks at the words, but when they finish, he only smiles, shaking his head. “No. It doesn't.” He sighs at the thought. He can imagine a little kitty version of himself in Hera's mind, playing with bits of string, curling up in his lap... Adorable.

Turkey sighs. Greece's forehead crumples and the brat mumbles something, making him lean forward to hear - he needs to make sure Greece isn’t always whispering his dancing secrets to the world.

“Get naked, Kiku.”

Turkey’s eyes widen. _THAT_ was not neko. He's sure of it.

Kiku returns with water, smiling as he watches Sadik listening to Hera’s mumblings. “Neko means cat. He's calling me a cat-person. It's a very common caricature back home.”

“But he just-” Turkey sighs again and shakes his head. This is something they can deal with later. Greece may talk in his sleep, but he rarely says things that make much sense. Turkey’s failed at getting any real secrets from him that way for years. He puts his hand against his cheek and frowns. “He's still hot. How long does that stuff take to work?”

Japan’s brow crinkles and he moves toward the bed, worry growing fast. “It should've started working within the first twenty minutes...” His hand touches Greece’s forehead, and he jerks it away, surprised. “He's burning up!” Immediately runs to the kitchen. “We need ice, Sadik!”

“Ice?” asks Sadik, following all the same.

XXX

Japan's sucking, twisting, moving his mouth around that perfect cock like there's nothing in the world that tastes better. His hands grip Hera's trembling thighs, his lips spreading wider as he takes him all the way down. That's when he starts to smell smoke. Pulling off slowly, he looks up at Hera, wondering if someone lit a cigarette (Greeks and Turks smoke far more than the Japanese do), and his eyes widen at the sight behind them. The walls-- The walls are up in flames. He scrambles back, screaming.

Hera felt like he was on the edge, fire about to be pulled from his veins by Kiku's lips and the dance before him. But Kiku's suddenly backing away, and it is in his eyes that he sees it first. Fire. Real fire. He turns, falling out of his chair. Whatever nothing there was behind him is now flame, creeping closer. He feels the heat of it searing his skin, smells it, chokes on it.

Hera turns to run, but the wall in front is flame too. The stage is on fire, and Sadik is still dancing, his feet skittering over the flames and turning black, black, dead. “NO! STOP! We have to...!” He grabs Kiku's arm, pulling him to the side. There's only smoke still, though he has a terrible feeling they will soon be trapped. “RUN! Run, Kiku, run!” He searches desperately for a way to get to the stage, unwilling to leave his hated - loved - rival behind.

Japan is still screaming as he's dragged along, fire sweeping fast, chasing their heels and making them run faster. He doesn't know how to run any faster. He sees Turkey still dancing and calls for him, his arm reaching out, but it immediately catches light. He throws himself away from Greece to shriek, dropping to the floor and flailing, trying to put the fire out.

Greece desperately tries to help him, even as the smell of burning flesh makes him want to vomit. But when he moves to smother the flames with his own hands, something catches him by the shoulder. He's spun around to see Turkey, wreathed in flames and apparently unbothered by the way they melt his flesh.

Turkey smirks, fingers digging hard into Greece’s shoulder. “Baby's on fire. Better throw him in the water....look at him laughing, like a heifer to the slaughter...baby's on fire, take your time he's only burning!” He cackles, the mask melting into his face even as the skin burns away. It falls to the floor in puddles, leaving him with a burning, sneering skull. *

Hera wrenches back from the burning skeleton Sadik has become, unable to help the fear that threatens to take control of his sanity. Is this all a trap, something that bastard cooked up just to make him squirm? It is all too real, though; he can smell it, feel the heat.

He turns to reach for Kiku, to take him and run, but the face that he meets is a woman's. Pretty, dark haired and dark-eyed, but so sad. Burning; her robes are burning, and he doesn't know how to help her. “M-mother?!”

*[adapted the dialogue from a song by brian eno, as it is in Velvet Goldmine]

 

 


	5. Ice

Kiku and Sadik have been filling Hera's bathtub with ice for the last fifteen minutes, using everything in his freezer and filling the rest with freezing water. When it is full, they return to the bedroom and carefully lift Hera between them. He is so much lighter than he should be, and that does nothing to ease Kiku’s worry.

“What's _wrong_ with him?! That medicine should've worked!” he sighs, frustrated. They make their way to the bathroom, even as a dozen cats follow, annoyed with them for stealing their master.

Turkey shakes his head, trying not to let on just how worried he is. Even though Greece is naked he can feel him burning. His body is shaking, and Greece is moaning in his sleep, sounding...frightened. He growls; that better be a dream about him, only he's allowed to frighten the brat. “How should I know? I told you I don't do this, I don't take care of people!”

Japan glares, but doesn't say anything more. They move him quickly to the bath, both of them bumping into things, stubbing toes, cursing and growling, but finally sighing as they reach the tub. They lower him to the frigid water. Hera yelps the minute the ice touches his skin, suddenly clawing and kicking as he tries to get away.

XXX

_Hera turns to reach for Kiku, to take him and run, but the face that he meets is a woman's. Pretty, dark haired and dark-eyed, but so sad. Burning; her robes are burning, and he doesn't know how to help her. “M-mother?!”_

Her arms open for her son, and she stares at him, not feeling pain at all, but joy with the sight of him, his strength and beauty. “Heracles, you are so very handsome!”

Hera steps forward, intent on embracing her. Then he sees that there is blood on her clothes. Her throat is open; her arms, too, from wrist to elbow. The fire curls around her feet and slides up her body like a snake. He recoils, almost tripping over the stage. _What is he doing?_ Hera shakes himself; he has to help her!

“Mother! Mother hold on, I'll save you!” He tries to move forward, wanting to hold those terrible wounds together and smother the flame. But the fire leaps at him, wrapping around his own body. He screams and tries to escape it, to go to his mother or fall to his knees, _something_ , but Turkey’s bony fingers grab at him and force him to stay where the flames can devour his flesh.

“MOTHER!”  He reaches desperately for her, but the hands are too strong and he is on fire, fire everywhere, stabbing into him through skin, blood, and bone.

She does not reach back. There are things that he needs to do in this world, before he can move on to the next. Two of those things are waiting for him to become well. “You must become strong again, my Heracles. You are just about to begin. Life is going to be beautiful for you very soon.” She vanishes in the flames.

“MOTHER!” he shrieks, but the hands pull him back. There are more now - it's Turkey and Japan and others, all skeletons, all burning, all pulling him down, down, down to be consumed in the fire.

XXX

“Shit!” Hera fights hard, body jerking away from the ice. Sadik reacts too slowly and receives a flailing punch to the face, along with a kick that knocks him back into Kiku. He apologizes quickly before rushing back, now prepared for battle. He throws his upper body around Hera, locking his arms to his sides and keeping out of kicking range as he forces him into the ice. The poor brat shrieks, a lot of it incomprehensible nonsense, but one word stands out. Oh fuck; he's calling for his mother. Sadik grits his teeth and holds on. “Get his feet!” he calls.

Japan runs to them both, falling to his knees and ducking to avoid the kicking that seems to be Greece's only weapon at this point. He grabs first one flailing ankle, then the other, grappling with them and finally _slamming_ them down into the ice, trying to keep them from moving again.

“MOTHER!” Greece shrieks.

Fuck, it's like the brat is _trying_ to guilt Turkey, forcing him to recall another time when Greece was screaming like that, and Turkey was...carrying him away. He'll never know why he didn't kill the boy too. It wasn't pity. It was...ownership. Something pretty to have and come home to.

He shakes his head; now is not the time to think about that, or all their bitter feuds. Hera is certainly putting up a hell of a fight this time, even unconscious and weakened. Sadik’s own hands are starting to hurt, submerged in the ice under Hera's back. “What do we do now? This seems a great deal _worse_ than before!”

Japan holds the ankles beneath the ice, his eyes sliding to Turkey's face. He looks... different. Flushed, but not embarrassed in the way a lover might be. Breathing in, Japan slides his fingers out of the ice to flex them, holding Greece down with his wrists. “Wait for him to calm.” He half-glares at him, annoyed. “Try to _keep_ him calm.”

Sadik refuses to look at Kiku. He can hear him getting...flustered. He's only seen Hera’s pictures of Kiku angry, but he has a feeling it is a fearsome thing to behold when it is directed at you. He shifts; the front of his sweatshirt is wet, and he is certainly feeling colder. He can barely feel his hands; his fingers almost cling to Hera for the warmth. At least the brat seems calmer now. The fight is leaving him, and as he begins to settle Sadik tentatively releases his hold. It's a slow process, easing Hera back into the tub whenever he groans and tries to fight them again, but eventually he can sit up, one hand pressed to Hera's chest, just in case.

As Hera calms, Kiku spends his time watching Sadik carefully-- every move. He seems uncomfortable, and that annoys him, because of all people, Sadik should be the one fine with holding Hera down _anywhere_. Those who fight and fuck crave that kind of control. Still, the thought simmers through him, rankling him to the bone. “What's wrong?” he asks, flexing his fingers again, trying to keep them moving.

Turkey rubs his hands and arms together, not really looking at either of them. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Japan raises his eyebrows, somewhat sarcastic. “And what's _that_ supposed to mean? Frozen hands?”

Finally, Turkey rounds on him, confused and a little angry. “What is wrong with you today? You never pry like this. I always liked you for that.”

Kiku scoffs, letting his hands leave Hera and move to his lap, where he dries them and rubs them together. “I just find it strange. You can fight with him all day long, you can fuck him all night long, but when it comes to actually caring about whether he lives or dies, you get uncomfortable. And now you have this look on your face - this nauseous look - and I'm starting to wonder if you've ever cared about _anyone_ before.”

Sadik starts at that. Cared? Of course he's cared. He's cared about their lands and their money, and keeping them just strong enough to make him stronger. That it hurt him more than physically when his...conquests left, especially this one, is a thing he does not think very hard on. But in this modern world beyond empires, filled with alliances that are built on something more than fear or funds, something like friendship...he cares for them. He cares what they think of him, cares what they think is best, and doesn't like it when their hurting. He might even be worrying for the brat. What a concept! Sadik is sure it's going to be the death of him. He needs to smother it. “Why should I care?”

Japan’s mouth falls open for a moment, but he composes himself quickly, sliding his hands to his knees and gripping the edge of his robe. “Because caring for someone is the human thing to do. Particularly when you're _screwing_ them.” He spits the word, getting up and moving to the sink to turn on hot water. His hands can't stop shaking, but it's not due to cold. Still. Better to make it look that way.

Turkey snorts. “Hate to remind you, but we are _not_ human.” He casts a (worried) glance at Greece before coming to stand behind Japan. He sorts through the words carefully, trying to find the reason for this…strangest of conversations. His eyes go wide when he realizes just how often Japan has mentioned the sex. “Wait...That's what this is about, isn't it? You're upset because we fuck!”

The words, the way Kiku coos at Hera, the way he leapt as soon as he heard the brat was ill, defended him against all Sadik’s teasing...it all comes together, and he almost laughs. Instead he confronts Kiku, determined that it is his turn for an interrogation. “You're in love with him.”

Japan whips around, the words jolting his heart _hard_ , because yes - yes, he's been in love with Hera for a long time. It's something he's accepted, and something he keeps to himself, if only for the sake of his own heart. But other people knowing? _Sadik_ knowing? He's scared to death. As much as he's loved Hera for a very long time, he's lusted after the mysterious and deadly Sadik just as long. As much as he'd like to choose one over the other, he can't bring himself to do so; not when he doesn't have to. Now... Now he has to. He's not sure what to say or do or think, so he lashes out, snarling at Turkey. “I don't see how what I _feel_ is any of your business, since you seem so intent on not feeling _anything at all_!”

Sadik almost, _almost_ backhands him. If it were anyone else talking to him like that, he would do it. But it's Kiku. Quiet, usually gentle Kiku, and he - _fuck_ – he cares for him. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms in order to keep his temper under control. “It is my business if it gets in the way of everything we have to say to each other! I'm not going to stop fucking him; trust me, I've tried. But I don't want to stop being with you, either, and Hera...he needs you or some shit. Look at 'im! Don't...don't walk out on us because of this. Hell, join us for all I care!” Oh shit. That last part wasn't supposed to slip out.

Kiku freezes, the offer hanging in the air like the scent of incense, burning his throat and making him want to cry. Because it's...it's the perfect solution, really. To everything in his heart. But the way it was said, like Sadik couldn't care less... Still. He's right. They both need Kiku, and he needs to get his shit together. Slowly, he breathes it in, closing his eyes and turning back to the hot water. “You are right. I was out of line. I apologize.” He bows his head a little. “It was just... a shock.”

Good God, that little bow, and the way he backs off so easily - that's more frustrating than anything else. He can’t take it anymore—the coldness, the stiffness, the way he shuts down his heart with that little bow. Not when he’s seen the fire there, the way his eyes can flash with passion. With a grunt, Sadik pushes Kiku against the wall next to the sink and kisses him hard. It was either that or slap him; he's trying to get better at the not-slapping.

Japan gasps, his eyes widening as Turkey nearly throws him into the wall, pinning him there and kissing his mouth like he'd rather punch his teeth out. Thankfully, this option is _much_ better. He doesn't know quite how to react at first, but then his body reacts for him, pushing his thigh between Turkey’s legs and winding his arms around his neck, kissing back with a little moan of heat. His tongue coaxes Turkey’s into a battle that is half frustration and half pure desire.

Sadik groans and practically grinds against him. He had no idea how badly he wanted this until now; he'd known there was something about this man, and now...well, he _certainly_ cares. He's tempted to pull apart that robe and find out what's underneath it, and starts running his hands down Kiku's sides. There's heat to this, fever to rival Hera’s. Oh, shit...Hera...


	6. Damaged

He's gone from fire to darkness, and woken to cold. Parts of Hera are freezing, even though he can still feel the flames burning inside of him. No, that’s the fever, isn’t it?

He tries blinking, his eyes just barely opening to let the light in. It's bright here. It kind of looks like his own bathroom. But it can't be, because the fuzzy images of Sadik and Kiku are in here with him, and they're making out against the wall. God, these dreams...He whimpers. His head aches, and so does everything else. He hopes this won't be another nightmare.

The soft, uneasy whimper somewhere behind them is louder than anything Kiku’s ever heard. He pushes Sadik away with a gasp and runs to Hera, his hands digging through the melting ice to pull his legs from the cold. “Hera-!” he gasps, looking to Sadik. “Help me get him out onto the floor for a minute.”

Turkey should be sighing, rolling his eyes, something to prove he cares far more about kissing Japan than helping the brat. Instead he's laying out a big towel before kneeling to plunge his arms back into the ice. He takes most of Greece’s weight and guides him to the floor while Japan gathers his legs.

“There we go. You with us, brat?” He brushes back the damp hair clinging to Hera's forehead. He's cooler now, and his body is shaking.

Japan watches him rush to Greece's aid, his heart still pounding with that blood-searing kiss. Oh, Kami- _sama_ , he can't stop himself from blushing, just looking at Turkey. He begins to towel off the cold water, rubbing Greece’s legs at the same time, trying to get the feeling back in them.

Hera blinks sluggishly. Definitely another dream: Sadik is being nice. He lifts his head so that he can see Kiku down by his legs. He wonders if he's going to suck him off again this time. While appealing, the thought doesn't arouse him as it did before. The aching cold and his swimming brain make him want nothing more than to curl up and sleep. He tries, but Sadik's hands force him to lie still.

“Stay. We'll take care of it,” Sadik says. He glances at Kiku, who has a very pretty blush. “You, uh, do whatever it is you're supposed to do to bring him back. I'll fix his bed.” He leaves, well aware that his worry is showing through. There's no way he's staying around Hera like that. Besides, he has a feeling it is rude to ogle someone's naked body when they're sick and weak and vulnerable... shit.

The erection in Sadik's pants is plain as day, and Kiku blushes a little bit harder, looking down again and wondering if that's for him, Hera, or both. He continues to massage Hera's calves, this time moving his hands harsher, waking up his nerves. “Hera...” he whispers, biting his lower lip as he watches Hera's toes curl. He must be feeling the pins and needles now. “Hera, can you hear me?”

Hera twitches his fingers, just to see if he can, when he hears Kiku calling him. The effort it takes to raise his head again is Olympic, and he falls back almost immediately. “Kiku. No cosplay?” He doesn't know what else to call all the outfits that he's been showing up in. He expects Kiku will soon open his usual robe to reveal some sexy fetish thing underneath.

Kiku has to smile a little, reaching out to place a hand on Hera's chest. “Why would I be in cosplay? We're not at a convention.” He leans over him, only blushing a little when their bodies line up point for point. His palm rests on Hera’s forehead for a moment. He's still burning up, but it's not as hot as it was. “Do you think you can stomach some soup, Hera-kun?”

Greece shivers, once again hot and cold. Can you feel sick in a dream? He doesn't know. But soup might be nice...dream soup. He can't vomit dream soup, right? “Yeah,” he answers at last. Now that Turkey isn't here to stop him, he curls inward. His outsides are freezing, even though he's still so hot inside. “B-blanket?”

Japan frowns at the sight. He calls into the hallway, “Turkey-kun? Would you mind helping me get him to bed?”

Turkey has finally managed to switch out the disgusting sheets that Greece has been lying on for he doesn't want to know how long, and shaken out the blankets on the floor. They're going to want them now. He returns, smirking a little. “Mind? When he's conscious, it's all I intend to do.” He leans down and gathers Greece in his arms, swaddling him in the towel like a child. Not like a child. He never did this when Greece was a young - Egypt did.

Kiku can't help shuddering a little at that, his mind going to places that don't make quelling his arousal any easier. Blushing hot, he takes Hera's legs and helps Sadik carry him to bed, his tongue running over his upper lip. Now that he has a taste to supply to the fantasy, it's going to be hard to forget. He swallows, setting Hera down on the newly made bed. “I'll reheat the soup, Hera-kun.”

The second Kiku is in the kitchen, he grabs hold of the counter, leaning against it and trying to quell his shakes. Sadik... _kissed_ him. Hard. And it was so good, he still feels electric with their static. Sucking in slow, deep breaths, he finally calms down enough to turn on the heat again. It was just frustration, frayed nerves. Really, they both know he's in love with Hera, so... It won't happen again. Even so, just the thought of it makes his stomach twist.

Kiku holds his breath for a moment, then breathes out and begins stirring the soup as it bubbles. It won't do to melt the tofu. He wants Hera to feel better. So he grabs the ladle and fills another bowl, making sure to get hunks of tofu and scallion in it, hoping that they will help him feel full.

Dreaming, Hera decides. He’s definitely dreaming, because Sadik and Kiku are acting like newfound lovers. Stranger still, it is Sadik tucking him into bed, drawing up the blankets and smoothing them over him. He is finally allowed to roll to one side and bring his knees up to his chest, gathering all the warmth he can. He wants to sleep.

Sadik shakes his shoulder. “I don't think so; we just got you back, you're not sleeping again until you've got some food in you. Food that I will not be cleaning up if it ends up on the floor again, understood?”

He gets very little response from Hera, and frowns. He needs something to get his attention, to pull him fully into this world and out of whatever nightmare he's been walking. Then he has an idea. With a smirk, he leans in close to Hera’s ear. “Guess what. I kissed Kiku. Really kissed 'im, I mean. It was _good_. And you slept through it.”

Greece wrinkles his nose and tries to burrow a little further under the covers. “Didn't miss it. You did that a couple of times, once in the doctor's, and then as a fireman...”

Turkey’s brow furrows. “Shit. I think that fever damaged your brain or something.” He puts a hand on Hera's forehead, feeling the heat that is still there, even after being dunked in ice. “That can happen, can't it, Kiku?”

“In very serious cases, I believe it can.” Kiku frowns as he carries the soup to Hera's bedside and sits on the edge. He waits until Sadik pulls Hera’s head up to rest the mouth of the bowl against his lips.

Greece pushes himself up as best he can, doing his best to ignore how much of it is really Turkey maneuvering him. The soup smells incredible, and he is eager to swallow it. The heat is lovely against his throat. “M'not damaged,” he says between sips. “'S true. You're the ones who were being weird. And then everything...burned...” He shuts his eyes against that image and drinks more.

Japan looks to Turkey, who looks at him with raised eyebrows. They both shrug.

“Take it easy there, brat. I already told you I'm not cleaning any more bodily fluids from you today.” Turkey tugs on Japan's sleeve, silently asking him to take a break. They both watch Greece carefully, waiting to see how his stomach reacts. They jump when he leans over, but it's just another of his bitter coughing fits. He sighs and pats Greece’s back; he can actually feel the force of it through his hand.

Kiku nods at him softly, resting a hand to Hera's thigh and keeping it there through the fit of coughing before finally sliding to his feet. “I'm going to make more tea. Would you like some, Sadik-san?”

“Yeah.” Sadik likes tea, and he likes expanding his tastes. Kiku makes an excellent brew, whatever type he decides on. While Kiku’s in the kitchen, he keeps rubbing Hera's back, trying to ease the tension of his lungs. This may be beyond him - no, it's certainly beyond him, but it may be beyond Kiku as well. They can't stay with Hera forever. They have their own issues to attend to, and at this rate the brat really will get brain damage. Isn't that _just_ what the world needs? “You're going to make me do something stupid, aren't you brat?”

Greece hates the way he can hear his breath. It's been his wheezing, heavy companion for longer than he wishes to think about now. At least his stomach seems steady so far, and Turkey’s hand is kind of...nice. That's probably why the only insult he can come up with, even given such a fantastic opening, is, “You're stupid.”

Turkey taps Greece's forehead with one finger. He'd be smacking it if he didn't think that could knock him senseless at this point. “Brain. Damage. If that's the best you can do, I might just keep you this way. You're so much less annoying.” And less fun.

Greece goes nearly cross-eyed trying to follow the finger. He's sure that doesn't help his case. With a groan he lies back, pressing himself into the pillows. “Leave m'lone.”

“Never.” Turkey grins.

Japan paces the kitchen as the tea heats on the stove. He's not sure how long Greece will last like this. Even the ice bath didn't do much to knock his fever down. He doesn't know what other methods he can use, but... He does know one person who may be able to help. He glances toward his phone on the counter. No. _NO_. He _really_ doesn't want to call him. More importantly, he _REALLY_ doesn't want to owe him anything.

Sighing with annoyance, he finally grabs his phone and texts China: "Please come to Greece's place. Heracles is ill."

Back in the bedroom, Turkey sighs as well. It seems like Greece is fading again, and while his near-constant naps are normal enough, these are almost disturbing. Greece isn't a deep sleeper, but these things he's been falling into swallow him up. He may have reacted to the ice, but even that did not immediately wake him.

Turkey shakes his head and pulls out his phone. Fuck, Greece has him actually _asking_ for help. He texts Egypt: “Brat's sick as shit. Get over here.”

Kiku returns with tea, offering Sadik his cup and peering down at Hera with worry. “He's sleeping again?”

With a nod, Sadik takes the cup. The smell of the tea is already soothing his nerves. “Probably. At least he didn't faint this time.”

Kiku nods, dropping to the edge of the bed and resting his fingers on Hera's skin for a second. He's hot - too hot for having just been on ice. “This is really starting to make me worry,” he sighs, turning away and sipping his tea, his knee brushing against Sadik's. Blushing hard, he slips over to the side a little more. He really needs to stop thinking about that kiss.


	7. One Last Dream

When Greece opens his eyes again, he isn’t sure where he is. The place is unremarkable; so much so that he cannot tell if he is outside or simply in a very large room. He sits up slowly, rubbing his head and looking around. Someone calls for him. He looks again, and thinks he can see figures in the distance. Carefully, because he hasn’t walked much farther than his own bathroom in the past week, and not at all in the past day, he gets to his feet and starts toward them. It is really two figures, and he isn’t surprised to find Turkey and Japan grinding against one another. He cocks his head to the side and watches, waiting to see what they will do this time.

Japan hums in bliss as Turkey’s hand slides down his stomach, palming the very prominent bulge in his bright red leather pants. The hand squeezes, and it feels so good that he throws his head back against Turkey’s shoulder, moaning harsh and heavy. That's when he opens his eyes, two dark slits filled with need, and reaches for the approaching Greece. “Hera-kun! Please - Come play. It feels too good...”

Sadik grinds his cock hard against Kiku's ass, the rock of his hips almost following the style of his dances. He loves the feel of Kiku's smooth skin, and even more the feel of leather stretched over his cock. He squeezes again, his other hand moving up to toy with one of Kiku's nipples. “You were right.” He grins. “He _does_ have a fine ass. You should join us...maybe I'll give you a chance at his if you let me play with yours...”

Hera shakes his head, hoping to clear away some of its fuzziness. He does want to play, with both of them. He licks his lips and takes a step closer, still cautious. The way his dreams have been going, it’s likely they're about to pull out some new, strange fetish. Last time he's pretty sure there was ice, and before that the costumes...what now? “What are you going to do with me?”

“Ooh--!” Kiku groans, his head falling back to Sadik’s shoulder and his eyes closing again, unsure whether he wants to buck his hips into that touch or press his ass completely flush against him. He sucks in a breath, reaching down to grasp Sadik’s hand and guide it into his pants, wanting to feel his touch skin-on-skin. “Take your _cock_ , Hera-kun,” he hisses through his teeth as Sadik grinds directly against his ass. “If Sadik-kun doesn't get there first.”

Hera inhales sharply, feeling his cock stir at those words. God, he doesn't care what kink they come up with next, he just wants to have them. He moves again, reaching out to touch Sadik's arm over Kiku's chest. But the moment his fingers brush against his skin, all thoughts of sex are driven from his mind. There's a light _POP_ , and instead of Turkey there is...a turkey. As in a bird. A large, brown bird with a fan of tail feathers and a...what is that thing called? A red something hanging over its beak. A turkey. He jumps back. “What the...?”

Japan raises his eyebrows, not at all surprised, and turns around slowly to look at the bird their Turkey has become. “Well. Now look what you've done.”

Greece stares, afraid to move lest he brush against Japan and turn him into a peacock or something. “Sa...Sadik?” He reaches out; maybe another touch will turn him back? The bird yodels and snaps at his fingers.

At that very moment, America comes out of nowhere, wearing a Pilgrim costume and carrying a rifle. He immediately begins chasing Turkey the turkey, who runs like the devil is after him. “WOOHOO! LET'S GIVE THANKS FOR THAT BIG, FAT TURKEY!” America shoots at him, much like a cartoon character.

“Gobblegobblegobble!” says the turkey. He dodges the gun and runs. “GOBBLE!”

Greece is struck dumb for a minute, and yet the strangest part of this is that it doesn't _feel_ all that strange to him. He starts chasing after America, trying to catch up so he can grab at his coat or knickers. “Alfred, wait! Don't shoot, it's Turkey! I mean...it's Sadik! I accidentally turned him into a Turkey...I mean a turkey! AMERICA DON'T EAT TURKEY!”

XXX

“...” Japan looks at Turkey, then looks at Greece, then looks back at Turkey. “...Well.”

Turkey blinks. “He did just say America was going to eat me, right? I'm not the only one who heard that?”

Japan coughs, trying to cover a laugh. “Yes, I believe I heard that as well.”

“...What the fuck was in that soup?” Sadik chuckles.

Kiku raises his eyebrows. “Nothing that should make for a dream like _that_.” He chuckles, surveying Sadik out of the corner of his eye. “Unless you've been playing games with Alfred that I have not heard about.”

Sadik snorts. “Do I look like England to you? You're the one who's such good friends with America.” He shakes his head. “I'm telling you, _brain damage_. Brat, what is going on in that head of yours?”

XXX

Greece finally manages to catch up, if only because the turkey turns and comes barreling into him. He wraps his arms around the bird's neck and makes sure to put himself between turkey Turkey and America. “Please wait! I'm sure we can fix him, and then-OUCH!”

The beak snaps hard around his fingers and pecks at his body. He pulls back and glares. It is _definitely_ Turkey. The bastard is practically sneering at him...if birds could sneer. “You little...! I'm trying to help! Maybe I should let him shoot you, and then we can pluck off your feathers and have a grand feast!”

Turkey bird-smirks. “Gobble-gobble. Gobblegobble!” He ruffles his feathers and goes in for another peck.

Japan sighs, moving toward the three of them and finally coming up behind America, tapping his shoulder and turning him into A Merry Cow. As in a cow. That is quite merry. Skipping about the fields of Greece's mind. He walks past him and moves to stand in front of Greece. “Well? This is your fault. Aren't you going to finish what Sadik-san started?” He waves a hand to himself, in particular his rather prominent bulge.

Half-entranced, Greece reaches for Japan's cock. Imagine his great disappointment when he finds himself holding the handle of a cast iron cooking pan, engraved with a big "J" in the middle. A J pan. Oh God, this just kept getting worse.

Then he feels a beak bite his ass.

“Fucking- OW! SADIK!” He turns, brandishing the pan. “I'm going to COOK you on Kiku! First I'll slather his butt with butter, and then I'll turn him on over my stove. Then I'm going to skin you alive, carve you up into little pieces and rip out all your innards! I'll cook those, too - I'll make your organs into GRAVY!” He yells, all the while chasing after a turkey and holding the j pan over his head like a weapon. A merry cow watches, chewing.

Turkey flees. “Goblegobblegobble!”

XXX

Kiku gapes, utterly and completely appalled. What. The...? “Did he just say he was going to slather my butt with butter and turn me over on his stove?” He looks over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “ _THAT_ stove?”

“Yes. Yes he did. I don't know, maybe he meant his 'stove', if you know what I mean,” Sadik replies. A string of half-mumbled, angry words flows from Hera's mouth. He smiles. “Oh, good. He's threatening to eviscerate me. That's pretty normal, he must be getting...wait, the gravy part's new.”

Kiku sighs, dropping down to the edge of the bed and resting a hand on Hera’s forehead. His fever has dropped a little, but whatever has him down, it's not leaving without a fight. Clasping his hands in his lap, he chews on his lower lip, worried and embarrassed and ashamed. It feels strange to be like this now, knowing Sadik knows the truth - more than he realizes, even at this moment. “These dreams must be rather disorienting.”

“No kidding. I doubt he was really aware of what was going on the last time he woke. Just listen to him wheeze - that's not normal. His lungs have to be all clogged up.” Sadik puts a hand on Hera's chest, feeling the uneven rise and fall. The breaths are loud and labored, as though each one costs him. He sighs. “'S'not good for him.”

Japan nods a little, standing and moving toward the kitchen. “Perhaps some steam? Hot towels are very good for this sort of thing.” He puts the kettle on, taking a peek at his phone as he does. China has not yet responded. Worried, he texts him again: _It's worse. Please come._

Turkey almost smiles. “You're sweet with him. Too sweet; he doesn't deserve it, you know.”

Japan freezes at those words, dropping his phone to the counter, thankful that his face is hidden. He doesn't know whether to be annoyed or embarrassed or... A small smile appears on his face anyway. “He is very sweet with me, and I do not deserve it either. It is the least I can do.”

“Hera, sweet? Hah. Well, that's something I've only seen on rare occasions. This one, for instance. He's a lot cuter like this.” It reminds him of when the brat really was a child, curled up to sleep. But even then Egypt or some underling saw to him. Even then Greece had hated him, and he'd hated right back. No one else made him feel so... _sorry_. He tries to get the lighter mood to return. “Any chance this is going to kill him? I could always put him out of his misery...” he offers.

Japan almost turns around to yell at him for that, but from the smile on his face... Clearly, he's joking. He sighs, annoyed with the way he makes light of these things, but smiling nonetheless. “You really are incorrigible, you know that? Why do you hate him so much?”

With a noncommittal shrug Turkey looks down. He doesn't know how to answer that. “It's complicated. We've got quite the history.” He raises his eyes, recalling some of what he knows of Japan. “It's a bit like you and Yao, only...we're not brothers by any stretch. And I didn't find him. I stole him.”

Japan turns around completely to look at him, coming out from the kitchen and placing his hands on his hips. “That doesn't answer my question. If it's so complicated, why can't you ever see yourself... _liking_ him? After all these years, you're still around, and you haven't killed each other yet, and now I find out you're sleeping together? It seems strange to think that you don't hold any affection toward him. Does he annoy you? Make you feel guilty?” After a second he stops, looking away. “I'm sorry. I'm prying again, aren't I? I'll just...” He moves back into the kitchen to wait for the water to boil.

Turkey glares, but after everything that's happened today, he can't keep it up. He sighs heavily. He doesn't like thinking about this. “Of course he does. Annoy me, I mean - and the guilt thing too. Don't you dare tell him I said that. But I mean, I wasn't so bad to him. It's not like I hurt him for no reason; I could have killed him before he was big enough to fight back. Could've left him to starve or something. Instead I brought him to my house, and treated him like a prize. He's the one who left, he's the one who hated _me_ from the beginning...and why am I even telling you all this?” He runs a hand over his face. “God, you're going to turn out like him, aren't you? I won't be able to stop myself.”

Japan is again thankful for the shield of the kitchen, his skin tinting pink with that last remark. His stomach flip-flops. It's utterly unfair. First Hera held his heart, and held it completely. They were friends, and as they got to know each other, he knew there was a connection that could not be ignored. But then... Then he met Sadik, and from the moment he did there was a magnetism there that almost hurt. He found himself in the middle of their feud before he'd ever touched either of them. It was the most unfair thing he could ever imagine. “I don't know what you mean,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over the counter, setting out towels. “It is a lot to keep to yourself. You were bound to talk to someone about it eventually.”

Turkey grins, because he can _hear_ the blush in Japan’s voice. “You're cute. You know that, right? The brat thinks so too. He talks about you - not just in his sleep. He's always going on about how he went to some god-forsaken ruin with you, or saw a bunch of your sights, or napped with you and some cats, and how you must like him so much more than me. I don't care if you do,” he adds quickly, and then smirks. “Just as long as you think I'm sexier.”

Kiku is going redder by the word, and with each new revelation he feels his stomach twist tighter. Oh—Oh, Hera _talks_ about him. About their days together, and their naps, and the things they're always doing, and he thinks he's _cute_. And so does Sadik, truth be told. He turns his gaze to him, clearing his throat and peering up at him through his long, sooty lashes. “I don't know which of you I find more attractive. The truth is, it changes by the minute.”

Sadik leans back in his chair, rather pleased with this. It's a new competition for him and Hera, and while he feels just a little guilty putting Kiku in the middle again, he has a feeling he’ll like it this time. “My cock's bigger.”

Japan nearly drops the boiling pot of water in his hands, but saves it with his usual grace, pouring it into one of the bowls he was using for soup. He lets himself smirk a little, despite the fact that he's noticeably crimson. “Well, you'll just have to prove it.” He carries the bowl and the towels back into the room, ducking his gaze as he wets the towels and places them one-by-one.

“Well!” Sadik laughs, just barely restraining himself from slapping Kiku's ass as he leans over. He does, however, take a good, long look. Hera's right; it's a very nice ass. “When the brat's done being a pain, I most certainly will. It wouldn't be a fair competition now; Hera's clearly using this as a distraction.”

As if to prove his point, Greece's breath hitches and he starts making a gagging sound. Turkey grabs the trash can and turns Greece on his side, attempting to prevent him from choking on his own vomit. He wrinkles his nose. “Fuck. What did I _just_ say about body fluids, brat?”

Japan sighs, wrinkling his nose as well and rubbing Greece’s back through it. This isn't good. He's hot to the touch even after all this time, and he shouldn't be heaving this much from miso soup. When it finally appears to be over, he wipes his mouth with a towel and heads to the bathroom to grab the mop. He prays that China arrives soon; it is becoming increasingly clear that Greece needs more help than he can give.


	8. Moirai

It takes Yao far too long to reach Hera's house in rush hour traffic. When he finally gets there, he finds he is just in time to see Gupta contemplating the door. Who contemplates doors? Who even waits for an answer? He kicks the door down with his usual flourish, throwing himself into the apartment and dragging Gupta with him.

“ARU! Where is the patient, and _why_ is there sick all over the floor? Kiku, what have I told you about taking care of sick nations? AYAH! We must get to work!” He throws his knapsack on the floor and begins pulling out more ingredients than he should ever be able to fit inside.

Turkey is so shocked by the sudden entrance he nearly jumps into Greece's lap, and _does_ end up clinging to the unconscious nation. At Egypt’s raised brow he coughs and disentangles himself, putting on his angry face. “Hey! Keep it down, brat's sick as hell. What took you so long, Gupta? And what are _you_ doing here?”

China crosses his arms over his chest. “ARU-ARU! What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? I'm here because Kiku told me Hera-kun is sick! We cannot have sick nations making us all ill!”

Egypt merely grunts in acknowledgement of the room's inhabitants before beginning his work, setting up powerful incense in each corner of the room and a chemistry set by the nearest window. He does not say a word to Turkey, nor does he acknowledge that he has been spoken to. Their brief meeting of eyes is enough. He pulls out a bottle of very fragrant oil and begins to massage Greece, starting with the feet and meticulously working his way upward.

Japan raises an eyebrow at Egypt’s presence, but immediately gets to work cleaning up the vomit without asking what's going on. He has a feeling Turkey made that call. He cleans fast, running the water back to the bathroom and spilling it down the drain.

“KIKU!” China yells. “Get me my biggest pot when you're done cleaning that up! Hurry!”

The room feels over-crowded with healers now, and Turkey wonders if he should leave. He's the one who is out of place, with his lack of caring expertise. But he's stubborn, and someone needs to be here who isn't going to coddle the brat. Which is exactly what he's doing sitting by the bed and holding Greece’s hand - _not_ coddling. “We - that is, mostly Japan - have tried pretty much everything. Every time we think he's gotten better, he gets worse again. He can't even keep down the medicine Japan's been giving him.”

China yanks the pot from Japan's fingers and sets it on the stove, beginning preparations for a pot of his famously healing chicken soup. “Not Good! Kiku, what have you been giving him? What kind of medicine?” he calls from the kitchen.

Kiku watches Sadik hold Hera's hand, trying not to stare, blush, look the way he feels. He’s embarrassed with Yao here, and if Yao knew the thoughts on his mind, he'd give him a sound spanking. Gupta isn't so bad. He's quiet, just... Well. Kiku’s not sure he likes the way he's touching Hera _everywhere_. “I gave him economic and cultural serums. His social unrest should be quiet by now. I don't understand why he's still so feverish.”

Yao drops his ingredients to the counter and heads over to where Hera is laying, checking his pulse and feeling his forehead. With that touch, he yanks his hand back as though burned. “He's too hot, aru! Get some ice. Now!”

The hand within Sadik’s _was_ warm, but the Turk was hoping that was just from him holding onto it. He reaches up to feel Hera’s cheek and sighs. “Almost as bad as it was before. C'mon, brat, it'll be boring if you leave. No one else is quite so much fun to torment.” He rubs the back of Hera's hand, because that's what people do when they're worried, right? He doesn't know what else he _can_ do, anyway.

As Gupta reaches Hera's thighs, he realizes just how hot his skin is. This is not good. Hera is sweating too hard, and his breathing is labored. He looks so pale, too; Gupta has never seen Hera look so unhealthy. It is time for desperate measures. He slides away from his charge's body to reach for his chemistry set.

XXX

Greece is racing after Turkey turkey and waving around J pan, when the ground beneath his feet suddenly falls away into a valley of flames, so deep and bright he thinks it must be a split straight down to the belly of the earth. He tries to skid to a stop, tossing J pan back the way they came in an effort to at least save what remains of his friend. The turkey flies; he wasn't even sure such a bird _could_ fly. But Greece has little time to contemplate this as he scrambles desperately, vainly, and falls over the edge.

He screams and tries to grab a ledge, a branch, _anything_ , but there is nothing to slow his descent into the bowels of flame. Once more he burns, burns and screams and hurts, and he cannot breathe or speak for the ash in his lungs.

Just as suddenly it all disappears, and Greece finds himself kneeling in a long, grey hall. There are massive pillars on either side and the floor is made of marble, cool and smooth against his burning skin. A light at the end of the hall beckons to him, and there are several shadowed figures before it. Wound about all -entangling his body, spilling over the floor, and wrapping around the pillars - is bright blue string. It seems endless, and it has such a strange texture: somehow organic, like a massive vein.

He tries to stand, to squint at the light. The figures become clearer, and he sees that there are three women with one eye to share, holding a gigantic pair of scissors. His heart flies to his throat, but he bows his head in grim acceptance. So. Here he faces death.

“Mother,” Greece whispers, “I hope I can see you again.”

XXX

Sadik nearly goes into a fit himself when Hera's labored breathing becomes worse, so harsh it hurts to listen to. Hera chokes on every breath, and when Sadik squeezes his wrist he can feel how erratic the pulse is. “DO SOMETHING!” he shouts to the others, for all he can do is hold Hera's hand and shift his torso to lean against him. He tries rubbing over Hera’s back, muttering into his ear. “Don't you _dare_ , you little bastard. You hear me? Don't you fucking dare! I'm going to keep you right here, and then I'm going to remind you about it every day for the rest of our lives!”

“Hera-!” Kiku drops everything, including the ice, at the sound of Sadik losing his mind. He runs into the bedroom, wrapping himself around Hera and calling his name. “Hera, please! Please come back! Please! I need you!” He's nearly in tears; but the body in his arms is nearly on fire. Worse still, it looks like Hera can't breathe.

Gupta looks over his shoulder as the whole world seems to come down on them all, Hera's skin burning hot to the touch and his breath barely there. He reaches into his kit and calmly pulls out a syringe, uncapping it and filling it with the strongest antidote he has.

Kiku is shaking Hera now, nearly screaming as he sees his head fall back, feels his heartbeat growing faint. He barely notices Gupta rise from his place, slowly walk over, and jam a needle into Hera's bare ass. But the impact makes him jumps, because Hera starts to spasm and convulse like he’s having a massive seizure. Even as Hera flails, Gupta does not react. He removes his needle and places a band-aid over the sight, then moves back to his kit and sits on his knees, watching.

“What the HELL did you do to him?!” Sadik bellows, holding onto Hera for dear life to keep him from hurting himself as his body seizes. “Hang on, küçük savaşçı. Fight!” [little warrior]


	9. Morpheus Rises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild update appears! Sorry for the wait; we hope the chapter makes up for it! We are almost to the end of this story, with just one official chapter remaining (and an extra one for you smut fans). We hope you enjoy it, and please review!
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own APH.

Greece hears the scissors slide open and takes a breath that does not fill his lungs, trying to enjoy the last moments of his life. He thinks he can feel arms around him, smell something familiar - sweet and spicy. Sadik. Cherry blossoms and the sea. Kiku. He smiles. If he wraps his arms around himself he can hold them together, just for a moment. He thinks, too, of his own land, his people. Olives and ocean, sleeping in the sun, working hard on their farms and bringing in fish for the market, loving their families, fighting for their lives... he hopes they will live. He hopes they, too, will not disappear.

Suddenly the smells are stronger, and he his head jerks up when he hears a shriek. More figures have appeared where the Weird Sisters stand, and when they speak he knows them twice over.

“Be gone, you hags! I am Lord of the Dead, and I say his life is not over yet!” A tall, imposing man with black robes tears the scissors from the Fates’ rotting fingers and flings them to the light of the world beyond, pointing for the sisters to follow. They hiss at him and Greece cries out, feeling their nails dig under his skin even though they are yards away. “Fight, little warrior, FIGHT!”

A second figure is all dressed in white, with cherry blossoms in his hair. This one goes to kneel over Greece and strokes his face. He looks worried, as well he should, and he calls to him softly, longingly: “Please, please, you must go back. This is not where you belong. Not now. You must fight the temptation of sleep. You must go back to those who love you.”

Hera inhales what he can, leaning into the touch. This is Persephone, goddess - er, god?  - of spring and queen of the underworld. The one standing up to the sisters is Hades. Yet here, they have taken on familiar faces. The strong, sweet goddess is Kiku, and the ominous lord of the dead is Sadik. They speak with his friends’ voices, their calls echoing as they connect to the physical world. Hera himself is too shocked to speak, but at their behest he tries to stand. He falls; everything is so heavy, like there are phantom, clawed hands pressing him into the floor. The Weird Sisters turn their eye upon him.

“No!” Kiku holds on, gripping Hera’s arms with unnatural strength and turning his own deadly look upon the Sisters. “You will leave him! He is not yours today!” Carefully, he helps Hera struggle to his feet. “Breathe in,” he whispers to him, stroking down his trembling back as Hera clings to him. “The scent of incense. Can you smell it? Breathe it in.”

Hera finds he can, just the edge of it. Over Persephone/Kiku’s shoulder he can see two more figures emerging. One shines like the sun, so bright he can hardly look into his face. Apollo - healer, bringer of day, wearing the face of Gupta. The other is full of life, smelling of earth and woods, with a stern face and dark hair. Demeter - goddess (well, god) of harvest, the one who presides over the cycle of life and death, wearing the face of Yao. He falls against Kiku, trying to regain the strength to greet these great ones properly.

Yao comes closer, bringing with him the scent of incense that grows richer and more powerful with every step he takes. Poor Hera looks as though he's been sick for an age, and lost for longer. His hand reaches up and slides his fingers through Hera’s stringy waves, pulling them back from his face and tucking them behind his ear. He is caked in sweat from head to toe. “You have been through a mess, aru. So sick, so lost, so confused! But you have much to take care of in your world, and you can't do it from ours!”

Gupta also approaches, bringing with him the light of the world, the sun, making this whole realm blindingly bright. He does not say a word. He simply wraps himself around the sweating, shaking mess in Kiku’s arms and lets the light and the smell of incense take over everything, soaking up Hera’s heat and replacing it with his strength. It is a powerful gesture, one that speaks volumes without a word - as is Gupta's style.

Sadik pulls a sword from his belt and sets its point toward the Fates. “You see? These claim him for life. GO!” The last word _propels_ the Sisters through the light and beyond, shrieking as they scurry to do their duty, seeking other targets. They are not pleased to lose a nation, for it is a rare pleasure to cut such a string, but they know better than to cross these beings.

Hera nods; the old gods are right, of course. He has much to do. His people need whatever he can give them, and he must live for their sake. For his own sake, too; he does not want to leave the friends who would come for him even in death, who the gods think of so highly that they take on their forms. He stands, supported but no longer falling, and one last figure approaches from the light. The others stand aside to let her pass, and Hera nearly falls to his knees again because he is so overwhelmed by her presence. “Mother!”

She is no longer the bloody, burning mess of Hera's nightmares. She is healed, and young, and beautiful. She smiles at him, so happy to see that he is nearly well again, and takes his cheeks in her hands so that she may see his face. “Heracles, my sweet boy. I will see you through this, I swear it. My eyes are on you every moment, and I am so very proud.” There’s a slight twitch of her eyebrow. “Though I do wish you'd scale back a bit on the carousing. Taking after your father is one thing; there's no need to imitate him entirely.”

“My...father?” He shakes his head; that's not something he ever asked about. He had a feeling, but it was never as important as she was. He hugs her. “Thank you. I miss you.”

She hugs him back, long and tight because she will not see him again until his day comes; and that will not be for a _very_ long time. “I miss you too. I do. And I love you so very much. You are...” She looks like she is about to cry, but she wipes her eyes slowly, pressing his face to her shoulder. “The best son a mother could ever ask for.”

Greece knows he's crying, even though he can't quite feel the tears. “Goodbye, mother.” It's a thing he has wanted to say for years, and never could. He holds her tight for another moment, gathering his strength and hers; he knows it would be easier to die than live. Then he lets go, and _forces_ consciousness back into his body.

XXX

For a moment, Hera goes utterly limp between Sadik and Kiku’s arms. Sadik’s heart falls into his stomach, and he's desperately afraid they've lost him. “Hera-” The body coughs, choking and gagging on the thick black gunk that begins to fall from his mouth. Sadik shifts onto the bed to better hold him through it, lending him the strength to sit up. “Hera!”

“Oh!” For a moment Kiku jumps back, but within seconds he's right there again, basin in hand. He pats Hera’s back, holding up the trash can for him to spit it in. He's awake. Oh, thank Kami, he can feel his heart beating hard and steady. “Hera!” He gasps as the nation sits against Sadik, eyes wide and disoriented, looking around as the shakes overtake him again. He looks like he's not sure where he is.

Egypt nods to himself. Good. It worked. He begins packing up his chemistry set, capping the syringe and tying it up in a biohazard bag. Meanwhile, China enters with a _gigantic_ pot of soup, a plate of dumplings, and other smaller plates of food, because you never know what may help someone get better. He sets the tray to the nearest table before wandering over to Egypt. “Aru~! Good work! What did you give him?”

Egypt tosses him the bottle, labeled "Extra-Strength Tourism—In Case Of Emergency“. That explains it. After he packs the rest, he steals the bottle back and packs it into his case. He picks the case up, and then leaves just as silently and quickly as he came.

Heracles wakes to a bright world, one that is too full of color and sound and smell and feel and taste. _Especially_ taste. He coughs and gags, feeling like he is bringing up everything within him and spilling it into the bin so helpfully placed before him. It smells rancid and tastes toxic. He shakes from the force of it, and when he's finally done he falls back against the body behind him, feeling weak as a newborn kitten. Yet not so feverish, and not so nauseous. He takes an experimental breath. Yes, his lungs have cleared some. He feels weak, but better. He almost smiles.

Sadik finds the sweaty body a welcome weight in his arms. There is so much more life to it, and the color in his cheeks is not all fever-flush. Hera's not well, but he's not dead. That - well, he never thought he would think it, but that is a good thing. He sighs and lets Hera catch up with them.

Kiku thanks every being of power that exists, praises them all within his mind as he curls himself around Hera. He's alive. Thank Heavens, he is alive. And he is looking much better, feeling less feverish. Kiku wraps his arms around Hera’s waist and presses his forehead to his side. He can feel his breaths, his heartbeat. He's not moving from this spot until Hera is well. Because he _will_ get well.

China approaches the trio slowly, water in hand, and offers it to the rather weak-looking Greece. He is utterly shocked when Turkey helps him sit up enough to drink it. He stands back, letting Japan take the glass from his fingers. “Aru~!” He tries to wipe the smile from his face, but can't quite manage it. “How are you feeling, Hera? Would you like anything? More water, aru~? More ice?” He thwacks Japan’s shoulder. “Hera needs more ice!”

Greece blinks, accepting the water and drinking slowly. He's glad they won't let him hold it; he doesn't want to fail at something so simple, but he can barely raise his head. Then he stares at them. Hades, Persephone, Demeter...no, that's not right. These are not the gods. These are nations, enemies, and friends. Turkey, Japan, China. He wonders what happened to Egypt; he can still smell the incense. “You called me. I came.”

Sadik tries to glare at Yao, put the fear of Ottoman in him so that he never, _ever_ tells a soul about the things he's witnessing. He doesn't think it's working. So he concentrates on Hera instead, letting him lean against his chest. “Of course you did. Like we were going to let you go so easy!”

Kiku sets aside the cup and holds Hera close, ignoring Yao. “I'm so glad you're awake, Hera-kun,” he murmurs against his skin. “We were so worried. We- I-” He sighs, not sure how to phrase this without offending Sadik. But he knows it must be said. “We need you. Please be well.”

Hera smiles. “I need _you_. I promised her I would get strong again.” He rolls his head, making sure Yao knows he's included and this; Gupta, too, wherever he’s gone. “Thank you. I'm not sure what you did, but...well.”

Yao looks toward the door where Gupta went, half-blushing and slightly jealous. “I will pass along your thanks. It was mostly Gupta. And these two. Aru-aru, I have told him a thousand times not to care so much! He never listens!” He pouts at Kiku as though he is severely disappointed in him. “Ayah! It can't be helped.”

Japan glares at China out of the corner of his eye, but says nothing. He only leans in, pressing his nose against Hera’s skin and breathing in the scent of his sweat. There are a thousand things he needs to say to both of them. Not the least of which needs to be said in private. He does not want to put it off any longer. “Thank you very much, Yao. We will contact you when he is well.”

China raises his eyebrows, stepping back. “But-”

Japan snaps at him. “We will _contact_ you.”

After a moment, China just sighs, throwing his hands into the air. He mumbles to himself on the way out the door, just loud enough to be heard. “Tell him not to fall for a nation, and he falls for two. Ayah! Next I'll hear that Korea invented the threesome!”

At China's parting words Turkey nearly chokes. Brat's damn perceptive when he wants to be. He wonders just how long it will take Greece to figure out everything that’s happened. Just so none of them get the wrong idea he shifts away, making sure to set up the pillows before sliding out from behind him. “Alright that's enough. You need to eat, or something. Then again we might want to wait on the eating. What with the vomit.”

Japan sighs, looking toward the feast China placed on the nearby table. There's dumplings. Oh, they look so good. His mouth is watering, but he doesn't want to move. He cuddles closer to Greece and presses a hand to his chest and feeling his heart beat, sure and steady. “Are you hungry, Hera-kun?”

Hera frowns, confused as to why Kiku is so close. He thought all of that was a dream. Maybe he has missed more than he thought. He feels empty inside; not hungry necessarily, but that's a start, and Yao has always been a good cook. He nods. “I think. How...long? I mean, what happened?”

Sadik gathers up some plates and bowls, handing Kiku the dumplings he's been eyeing. For Hera he goes with soup; not that it's stayed down the last few times, but they've got that trash can handy in case it doesn't. He steals a dumpling from Kiku's plate and munches, settling into the chair once more. “Don't know quite how long. Haven't seen you in a week; I found you this morn...well, actually, I don't know what time it is. Maybe it was yesterday.” It's a fair question. How long _have_ they been with Hera?

Kiku visibly lights up as Sadik hands him the dumplings. Yes! He sits up a little, smacking Sadik’s hand away and setting to work on what's left of his plate. “You came to my house yesterday afternoon,” he confirms. He bites into a dumpling, nearly melting at the taste. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. “We've been here over a day. You have been very sick, Hera-kun.”

“Ah.” Hera nods, slowly spooning soup into his mouth. It's good, and he's even more pleased that he manages not to spill it all over himself. “Have I missed anything?” He looks between the two of them, quirking a brow at the tension he can feel. _Something_ has happened.

Kiku looks toward Sadik, his eyes blowing wide at the question. How the hell do they even start this conversation? He clears his throat, sliding a little bit away from Hera and placing his hands in his lap beneath the dumpling plate. “In a way, yes.”

Turkey refuses to look at either of them, and concentrates on piling his plate high. “Eat your soup. Keep it down for an hour, and then we'll talk. I am _not_ having you go all...whatever that was again. Too much effort on my part, you see.”

Greece tries not to smile. Something happened to embarrass them both? Well, this might be worth it. “I never asked for any effort from you, bastard.”

Turkey opens his mouth to retort, then closes it. “Stupid brat,” he mutters.

“Hera!” Japan almost laughs, blushing faintly. “Sadik-kun just spent the whole day trying not to care. That takes a lot of effort. Be kind.”

Greece smiles tiredly down at the cat sneaking into his lap. It seems things will indeed get better - although he is going to have a _lot_ of work to do. At least this new...whatever it is that's between them will be interesting. “I wish I could remember more of what has happened. I have had very strange dreams.”

Japan reaches over and scratches behind the cat's ears, sharing a look with Turkey. “So we heard. Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Turkey snorts. “He should. I've complained often enough.”

“You snore.” Greece swallows another spoonful.

Japan smiles, wondering what fresh hell he'll be forced to endure at night if he ever _does_ manage to get them both in bed with him at once. He chews another dumpling in silence, contemplating the thought. He could get used to it. Maybe. If the benefits outweigh the lost sleep.


	10. Kissing It Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! We have finally reached the end of the story, and we hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it!

It is several days before Hera can even stand for more time than it takes to use the bathroom. But he isn’t feeling so dead anymore, and he isn’t feeling too hot or cold. What he is, is...confused. Kiku and Sadik have stayed with him the entire time, feeding him and taking care of him in the ways he doesn’t really want them to, sometimes making veiled remarks to one other, sometimes refusing to look at each other at all. It is strange. Even stranger is the way they _both_ coddle him, in their own ways. He isn’t sure what to make of it. But as he gets better, he is beginning to notice it more.

Kiku is in the kitchen making plum tea. It is a little windy out today, so he's shut all the windows, and now it's a bit warm for his yukata. Letting it hang loose from his shoulders, showing off small slits of his forearms, he carries a tray in to Hera, who has devoured a meal of lamb kebabs and that funny sauce the Turk throws over everything. Sadik is currently out, shopping (or shoplifting, he's long ago stopped asking) for more food. “Did you enjoy it Hera-kun?”

Hera nods. He's sitting up in bed, and hoping that by tomorrow they'll let him eat at an actual table. He feels stronger now, and he knows he would be fine on his own if they left. They treat him like an invalid! Which...yes, he is, but it's not nearly as bad as it was. He can move around and take care of himself. Or he would, if Kiku and Sadik would let him. He's starting to think they enjoy having him as their patient - and that just makes him remember some very strange dreams. “You're a very good cook, but you know you don't have to do that anymore. I can make things.”

Japan tsks at him as he pours two cups of tea and sits on the edge of the bed. “I'm sure you can. However I am not about to see you live on wine and phillo pastries forever. You were very sick, and I have no doubt your eating habits had something to do with it.”

Greece crosses his arms and tries hard not to pout, knowing that will not help his case. “The Mediterranean diet is one of the healthiest in the world. America is always asking about it; Greek yogurt is very popular with his people.”

“Yes, but your fridge contained no fish, no chicken, no lamb, and no yogurt when I arrived. And your pantry contained no rice or grains.”

Greece is not really sure when the last time he went shopping was. Or what he bought; he has a feeling the only thing he brought home was junk. Even the events which led up to his current state are rather hazy. “I can get some.”

Kiku smiles a little, sipping his tea. Of course he could. But he didn't, because he was thinking of other things. Like sleeping with Sadik - which _is_ a distracting thought, he must say. “Yes, you can. But not right now. Sadik is shopping for you.” He holds a hand out to stop him from launching off the bed.

“He's _what_?!” Hera tries very hard to get past Kiku's hand. Normally he wouldn't have that much trouble, but he hasn't regained his full strength. It's embarrassing, really, but at least he doesn't need their help just to sit up anymore. “You realize he's going to poison me?”

Kiku raises an eyebrow. “I'm the one who cooks your food, Hera-kun. Sadik just... obtains it.” He finishes his cup and pours another, moving the tray so that he can sit. He throws both legs over one of Hera's, then sinks into his lap and leans on the hand that isn't holding his tea. It's a comfortable position; good enough to hold Hera there for a very long time. “He follows orders very well, and always brings back everything I tell him to - which is a fair shot more attentive than you.” He smirks.

Hera glowers. “He can still poison it. He's just waiting for you to believe that he won't, and then he'll give me something tainted.” Kiku has been defending Sadik an awful lot lately. Something's happened between them, and he's not sure he likes it. Sadik _knows_ how he feels about Kiku; he wouldn't be surprised if the bastard seduced Kiku while he was out of commission just to annoy him. “You have been, ah, spending a lot of time with Sadik lately.”

Kiku finds himself blushing a little, ducking his head and being coy. He's not sure why. Perhaps because it's Hera, talking about Sadik, and he's fairly certain he knows what that means. What can he say? _'Yes, I've been flirting with Sadik, and I'm waiting to fuck him until I can have you both together, but kissing him has been a little hard to resist'?_ Instead, he opts for subtlety. “I have. So have _you_.” He must admit that part still stings: knowing they're together, that they've been fucking while he's spent so long being confused over them both. He tries not to let that show. “We have been taking care of you, Hera-kun.”

Hera sees quite a few things flash across Kiku's face, and he's not sure he likes all of them. But the last part is absolutely true, and, although he hates to admit it in Sadik’s case, he owes them for their help. He reaches out, taking Kiku’s cheek in his hand. “I know. Thank you. I know I've said it before, but I do mean it. I'm going to have a roast for all of you - Yao and Gupta too - and we can eat and drink and dance together.” He smiles. “That is, whenever you let me get out of bed.”

_'Hah-- We'll see about that last part...'_ Kiku leans into the touch slightly, peering at him through his lashes. “Would you dance with me?” He asks it just a little flirtatiously, because he can, because he wants to. He can flirt with Hera just as easily as he does Sadik, even though Hera's hand makes his stomach twist where Sadik's lips make him simmer inside.

“Yes.” He'd like to do much more than dance, but he's still not sure he will get the chance for that. Hera has a terrible feeling Sadik is getting much closer than he is. He leans back against the pillows and drinks his tea. Kiku says it will help him regain his strength, and the sooner that happens the sooner he can dance. Maybe he can even encourage Sadik to dance for them. On the other hand, that always ends in sex. He has seen the way Kiku looks between them, and knows he doesn't quite approve. He sighs. “I _am_ feeling better, you know. I haven't been outside in more than two weeks. Surely a nap in the sun...”

“…would make you catch a cold, in your current condition.” Kiku chastises him, taking the cup from Hera and refilling it slowly before setting it back in his hand, as though he is planning to mother him to death. Which he may do. He shifts, making himself more comfortable in his lap. “I know you're feeling better, but you were so gravely ill, Hera-kun, I really don't want to chance it.”

“But...” Hera sighs and shakes his head. There is no arguing with Kiku about these things. He has taken it upon himself to be Hera's nurse, and it appears he's not allowed to refute the nurse's orders. At least he can enjoy Kiku's company this way. “I would like to do _something_. Even for me, this is a long time to remain in bed.”

Japan raises his eyebrows, leaning back on his hands so that he is more lounging in his lap than anything. “And what would you like to do, Hera-kun?”

Greece can think of many activities that would not even require him to leave the bed, and for a moment he lets that smirk play over his lips. But in the end he settles on a far less energetic pursuit. “Let me sit by the big window downstairs, and you can teach me more Japanese.”

Japan smiles a little at that, ignoring the smirk in favor of the proposal. It's a good idea. He slides from Greece’s lap, picking up the tray and hefting it into his arms. “Alright. But if you start to feel faint, I will carry you back up here myself.”

Hera grimaces. That's what happened last time. Sadik's general approach to his requests was always _"Go ahead and let the brat kill 'imself,"_ until he finally convinced both Kiku and Sadik to let him sit in the library/study with them, and promptly fainted. According to Kiku, Sadik had panicked, carried him back to bed, and worried like a nervous mother until he woke up again. The Turk denied all of this to Hera's face, but would not even hear of another request to leave his bed. “I promise to tell you if I feel ill again.”

Kiku gives him a skeptical look, but after a moment he finally turns away, heading out of the bedroom with the tray. Sadik should be home fairly soon, and they all need to talk. It may be best to broach the subject without Sadik here; or maybe he should leave, and let Sadik do it...? Oh, Kami-Sama, he can only imagine how that conversation would go. He may have to come back to keep them from strangling each other. He heads for the kitchen to set the tea aside and start on a strange, rather dangerous dish his brother Korea taught him. “Can you make it down the stairs?” he calls over his shoulder.

They haven't let him try it yet, but Greece calls out “Yes,” anyway. He throws back the covers and turns to put his feet on the floor. Japan will probably yell at him if he doesn't put on pants, but he is hoping he can get away with just the robe he's already wearing. It's plenty warm in the house. He doesn't bother with shoes, either. He stands, gripping the side table until he's sure he's steady, and carefully makes his way into the hall. It would be too much if he fell now; they'd never let him out of his room again.

Japan is chopping carrots with rather frightening efficiency, humming to himself and watching through the spotless steel range as Greece slowly makes his way to the stairs. He knows Greece is getting annoyed with the mothering, but... really. He can't even move down the stairs without gripping the railing like a vice. “Be careful, Hera-kun!”

Greece glares at his own feet, making sure they are fully grounded on each step before he continues. He hates that he still feels weak, and he blames it on the fact that they won't let him out to exercise. There are several cats following him down the stairs; thankfully they seem to understand they cannot dart between his legs like they normally do. They wait with him, matching his halting steps until he successfully reaches the bottom. He's sure they will run straight back to Kiku if anything goes wrong.

‘ _Oh Good,_ ’ Japan thinks. ‘ _He made it down without passing out.’_ That's a step up from three days ago. He begins chopping mushrooms, then leeks, then slices the beef thin and throws it all in a very hot pan. “Hera-kun, if you are feeling sick, I will take you back up the stairs.”

Hera shakes his head, sure that Kiku can _somehow_ see him. It's like he has tracking cameras on the cats. “I'm alright.” He certainly feels better than he did last time. Weak, but not dizzy. It's enough, in his opinion, for a celebration; one must cherish these little things. He makes it to the couch set up in front of the big window and falls into it gratefully.

Kiku stir-fries everything with Korean barbecue sauce, then pours it all into a hot stone bowl, cracking a fresh egg on top and letting it cook on the dish. When it’s ready, he sets it on their tray with more tea and two sets of chopsticks, and brings it down to Hera. The man is leaning back against the couch with his eyes closed, and for a moment he thinks Hera might have fallen asleep again. However, when he sets the tray on the side table the green eyes crack open. “You look happy to sit down,” says Kiku.

“I need to walk more. Get my balance back,” Hera replies.

Kiku lets out a soft chuckle. “It's not your balance you have lost, Hera-kun, but your strength. Maybe you need something to work toward. Something to look forward to.”

“Getting the Turkish bastard out of my house?” Hera grins.

Kiku grins back, because he knows Hera is kidding. Alright, half-kidding. But it's better than being completely serious. “Now, now, Hera-kun, that's not the way you should treat someone you're... Well.” He blushes a little, using the chopsticks to pop the yolk of the egg and begin mixing it into the hot bowl.

Hera cocks his head to the side, petting the kitty that has hopped into his lap. “You are not okay with that. Why?”

Another cat hops up, this one a little black kitten. She is fighting for Hera's attention, but Kiku knows that she'll accept his. He slips a hand under her and lifts her into his lap. “It's hard to describe to someone like you.” That may have come out wrong, but he's not going to take it back; it's true. He scratches the back of the black one's ears, trying not to blush any harder. “I am a little sad. That's all.”

Hera supposes that's fair. In these situations, he usually has more in common with Francis than anyone else. It still stings that Kiku feels he cannot talk to him about it more. He nods anyway, until a gray cat jumps onto his head and curls up, apparently content to stay there. “I wish I knew how to make you not sad.”

Kiku peers up at him through his lashes, his mouth pouting a little as he realizes Hera is a little stiff, like he's annoyed or in pain. He touches Hera's thigh, speaking softly because he wants to be honest. He has nothing to worry about; unless Sadik is wrong and Hera doesn't like him that way. The thought makes him nauseous. “I like you. Both of you. And I was hoping that one day I would be able to be with one of you, at least, in the romantic sense. But you have each other now, so I am feeling... Left out, I suppose.”

Hera blinks. Kiku just said that he wanted to be with him...them. He's a little jealous that it is _them_ , but all the little looks make more sense now. His heart thuds in his chest and his head fills with so many things he thinks it might float off his shoulders. “You like me? More than friends?”

Kiku laughs a little. How could Hera even have to ask at this point? He'd thought he made it so clear, _had_ been making it clear for so long. He touches Hera’s face, finally sliding his fingers down to his chin. “Much more than friends.” After only a moment, though, he turns away. His hand falls into his lap with the other and he wrings them together. “I just don't want to be left. I am afraid, because Hera-kun is not one for... commitment.”

Hera swallows, feeling like he needs something to ground himself. Kiku wants him. Wants him! Just as he's hoped for so long. He scoots closer, taking Kiku's hand. “If that's what you want, I can try.” He smiles a little, teasing. “But you're going to have to put up with me.”

“Not just you, apparently,” Kiku laughs, leaning closer and linking their fingers together. “If you don't mind trying, I think I can make you happy this way.” He leans in, pressing his lips to Hera’s cheek first, his mouth for just a second, and finally his other cheek.

Hera is already happy. Ecstatic. He wants to jump for joy, or press Kiku back into the couch and make love to him right here. Unfortunately, it seems all this giddiness is not just from Kiku, and the kiss finally overloads the circuits in his brain. Well, he should at least try to keep his promise. “I think I'm going to-” He falls forward into Kiku's lap, scattering the cats.

“Hera!” Kiku gasps, his hands sliding down to check his pulse, one winding into his hair as he attempts to pull his head up and see his eyes.

At that moment the door opens and Sadik shoulders his way inside, his arms full of bags. “I'm back!” he calls. “You better thank me, you have no idea what I had to do to find all this shi-” His mouth drops open. Kiku and Hera are on the couch, with Hera's face in Kiku's crotch, clearly sucking him off. Kiku has his hands in Hera's hair and everything, and those wide eyes say the brat’s doing a damn good job. He puts down the bags and crosses his arms, scowling. “How come you wouldn't let me blow you? I always knew you liked that brat better!”

“I…I'm not-! He's not-!” Kiku gasps, his mouth hanging open, unsure of what to say or do. “I- He just- I told him that I wanted him and he just passed out! In my lap! Help me get him back upstairs.”

If the brat said something like that, Sadik would've called his bluff. But Kiku doesn't lie about things like this, so he hurries over. “What's he doing down here anyway? He almost killed himself on the stairs a few days ago!” he scolds, gathering Hera into his arms. It's too easy. Brat's still too skinny.

“He wanted to get out of bed, and I felt like I had to tell him!” Kiku's so anxious now. Poor Hera, he just made him sicker! He lets Sadik carry him up the stairs, trailing behind, feeling very, very bad about himself.

Sadik snorts. “He fainted because you told him? Hah! I guess it's a sign I was right, eh?” He gently tucks Hera back into bed, rearranging the pillows and drawing up the covers. When he’s got Hera settled he lifts his eyelids, checking the pupils. “He's alright. Don't feel bad; it's his own damn fault for being stubborn.”

Japan sighs. “Don't be so hard on him. He's been cooped up in here all week.” He moves closer, tucking himself beneath the taller man's arm and into his side. It’s a position that is fast growing familiar, and he's been enjoying for a few days now. “ _You_ would be going twice as crazy.” He pokes Turkey’s side.

Turkey chuckles and drags Japan closer to him. “ _I_ have never stayed in bed for more than two days in my life - and those were two _good_ days.” He swoops down to kiss him.

Japan grins into the kiss, letting every spark in his blood explode into heat and light, the way it always does when they kiss. He's worried that the day they fuck he may just combust. On the other hand, it feels so good he probably won't care. He slides his hands up beneath Turkey’s hood, toying with his hair and pressing himself in against him, feeling his hardness already there. It's so easy to get him hard. It really is too bad they can't do anything without Hera; the man's been pleading with him for days.

“No fair teasing if you _still_ won't let me do anything. I'll get the groceries.” Turkey sneers, noting that Greece is stirring. “Made sure to buy extra arsenic this time around.” He turns on his heel and heads back downstairs, laughing.

Japan glares a little, still smirking as he whips around and smacks Turkey’s ass on his way out the door. “Be nice, Sadik-san, or you'll win nothing at all from me next time!”

Greece blinks, and finds himself staring once more at his bedroom ceiling, blocked partially by the face of the cat who is staring at him upside-down. Not again. “You're never going to let me go out again, are you?”

Japan wanders over, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Maybe that won't be such a bad thing,” he teases, sliding that hand down to his cheek. No fever, but he's still weak.

Greece tries to make himself look as pathetic as possible. “You'll keep me company, won't you? It's such a big bed...”

As he pretends to think on it, Japan trails his fingers down Greece’s cheek, his chin, his throat, watching those 'pathetic' eyes light with something hot. He loves it already. “Maybe. But how will you keep me from falling asleep?”

“You could sleep with me,” he lets the double meaning hang in the air, catching Japan’s hand and tugging at him, drawing him into the bed.

Japan grins, allowing Greece draw him in and straddling his hips as he falls forward. He's a breath away from kissing him for real this time, but he lets himself hang back, making Greece work for it, speaking soft and slow so that their lips just barely brush. “Sleeping won't make you any better.”

Hera reaches out to touch Kiku's face, his hair, his neck and shoulder - all of this, because now he can touch it the way he's really been wanting to. “Sleep makes everything better.” He leans up, crossing the last inch of space between them and pressing their lips together. It's better than he ever dreamed, and he’s dreamed of this quite often. Kiku is soft and pliable, all smooth like calm water lapping at fine sand. He knows, from the very moment their lips meet, he will never be able to get enough of him.

It's the kind of kiss that makes everything in Kiku stop: his heart, his lungs, his twisting stomach. Everything freezes, and the euphoric stillness that kicks in is all relief and anticipation curled together in his nerves, tangled. “Hera...” he breathes out against his lips, happy - completely happy. He shifts his head, turning to the appropriate angle for a good, long kiss. His tongue grazes his lower lip and he finally, impatiently, sucks it into his mouth, begging Hera to open for him.

Hera, of course, does not need further convincing. He opens his mouth and turns his head, letting their lips lock together. The feelings that rush through him as their tongues meet and tangle are so strong he's not sure if he's going to pass out again or be driven into even greater awareness. He hopes it is the second one; if he passes out they are likely to forbid him from going any further.

Kiku sighs into the kiss, enjoying the way they lock and unlock, his hands pressing into his chest, palms rubbing over his nipples. Oh, he feels exactly as he thought he would; so good and warm and easy. He feels like just kissing Hera is draining all his worries away. He moves his tongue, allowing Hera's to caress it and deepen the kiss, enough to make him a little lightheaded.

Sadik returns with some fruit, intent on making both of them eat despite Kiku’s near-constant cooking. He pauses at the door and smirks to himself; they don't even notice he's there. He leans against the wall and watches, allowing them the moment but determined not to be left out for long. They are quite lovely together; he could get used to watching.

Hera groans into Kiku's mouth, his hands sliding beneath the fabric that is already falling form his shoulders. Kiku can't help himself. He's nearly undone by the way those rough fingers rub and squeeze at his shoulders, massaging tension away. It's so good he can barely kiss him. He finally has to rip back and groan, his head falling to press against Hera's. “Feels good, Hera-kun.”

Alright, that's enough. They're going to be fucking soon if they keep up like that, and as much as Sadik is sure he could enjoy watching, he would much rather join in. He clears his throat and raises an eyebrow. “Did you faint on him this time, Kiku?”

Kiku gasps, yanking back with a hot blush as he looks over his shoulder. He shouldn't be so embarrassed, but he's always been modest. Yao said it was one of his more endearing qualities. Kaoru once told him it made him look like a porn star in training, but that's Kaoru for you. “Not quite, Sadik-kun.”

Hera cuddles Kiku possessively and glares at Sadik. “We're napping.”

“Clearly,” Sadik chuckles. He holds out a plate of grapes and makes his way over to the bed, swaying his hips in a way that is sure to get Hera's attention, if not Kiku's. “I mean to see that you eat first. You've been wasting away, and you,” he pokes Kiku's side, “you've always been to skinny. So...who wants one?” He pulls a grape free of the others and holds it between his teeth.

It's too tempting. Kiku tips his head back, letting his hair hang and his yukata fall down to his elbows. He takes the grape between his lips and sucks it into his mouth as he expands the touch into a kiss, one that rolls the fruit between their tongues, heat shuddering hard through every nerve. It's simply unfair. Hera awakens love and warmth in his heart, while Sadik awakens passion and heat. Together like this, he doesn't know how he'll keep himself from exploding.

Sadik flicks the grape over his tongue, biting into it just enough to break the skin so they can both enjoy the sweet flavor. There's such a gentle, insistent passion to Kiku, he can't help the way it heats up his blood and makes him desperate for more. He moves his free hand to Kiku’s back, covering one of Hera's hands and guiding it lower over his spine. At last he pushes the grape all the way into Kiku's mouth and pulls back, smirking. “You're next, brat.”

Kissing Sadik is very different from kissing Kiku, and from what Hera’s seen it's very different from Sadik kissing Kiku as well. They are instantly aggressive, instantly alive with tongues and teeth that nip at flesh as often as they bite the fruit. Sadik keeps pushing the bits of grape into his mouth, making him swallow, and though he's not sure how, at some point there's a second grape added. Sneaky bastard.

Kiku watches with delight as Sadik plays Hera into his grasp, seducing him with grapes just as easily as he did with Kiku. He's already turned on, just from kissing them both. Watching these two fight over a grape like hungry dogs has him squirming. “We should've done this a long time ago.”

Sadik pulls back, his lips a little more bruised, but very pleased with himself. _Three_ grapes have disappeared between them, and he's fairly certain Hera was so distracted by the addition of the second he did not notice the third. He puts two between his teeth right away this time, and turns back to Kiku. “One for you and one for him. Make him be good.”

Kiku groans hard at the sight, the chance to do this just like he wanted to. He leans up, fisting Sadik's shirt and dragging him down to kiss him. He fucks his tongue into Sadik's mouth, stealing his grapes and pressing into him hard enough to feel his pointed nipples through their clothes. “Make _me_ be good,” he whispers around the fruit, kissing Sadik again before pulling back and leaning over Hera.

Hera should probably warn Kiku that the last time he said something like that to Sadik, he could not sit down comfortably for a week. Ah, well. He's having too much fun kissing him, willingly taking the grape from his mouth just so there's more room for their tongues.

Sadik sucks in a breath. They're together now, that means he's allowed to touch, right? Whatever; no point in distracting Kiku by asking. He abandons the grapes on the table next to the bed and climbs on behind him, then slides his hands all the way down from Kiku's shoulders to his ass, tugging the robe a little further down. He grips Kiku hard through the fabric, then rubs his hands up and down his thighs. “Make you? Darlin', you don't know what you're asking for.”

XXX

Some time later, the three lay breathless and naked in Hera’s bed. Sadik looks over them both: Kiku is staring at the ceiling and Hera has his eyes closed. Sadik laughs and leans up on an elbow to swoop down and give Hera a kiss, mussing his hair. Hera doesn't seem to be able to form a more coherent response than a series of positive moans.

“We need to do that again. Have some fun; switch places. Though we may have to wait a while for the brat,” says Sadik. He turns to Kiku and kisses him, a lazy exchange of tongues while his hands run over Kiku's back to feel where Hera is still inside him.

The kiss simmers through Kiku, bringing along a strange sense of affection; the kind Sadik would never outwardly display for Hera. He supposes that as long as he's not Hera, Sadik won't feel odd about caring. He pulls back and rubs their noses together. “Then you will have to keep Hera’s place for him won't you?”

Heracles stirs a little at that. “No. 'smy turn, he can't have it...”

“I think I'm going to have to come pester you more often, brat. Seems to keep you alive. Told ya you needed me!” Sadik laughs, licking a stripe up Hera’s cheek to annoy and/or arouse – either one will work for him.

Kiku watches the exchange with no little lust, then leans in to kiss Hera's mouth. At the same time, he reaches back to pull Sadik's arms around his waist. “Go to sleep, Hera,” he teases, trying to sound innocent. “Sadik will take care of me until you're awake.”

“ _Real_ good care,” Sadik adds. He sits up to press himself into Kiku's side, pulling him off of Hera's cock to lie between them.

Hera tugs on Kiku, wrapping himself around his body. “Mine. You'll stay with me and take a nap, won't you Kiku? I'm still sick.” He coughs and makes the most pathetic face he can muster. It's pretty good, considering he's covered in sweat and about to pass out if he doesn't sleep willingly.

Kiku sends an imploring look to Sadik, who gives in with a roll of his eyes and cuddles close. “Since you asked so nicely... you poor, pathetic creature.” Kiku smiles a little, giving Hera a kiss and pressing his face into his neck, breathing him in as he prepares for a nap.

Sadik sighs. He really is going soft. And the worst part of it is, he doesn't mind so much. 


End file.
